#on my hands and knees dry fucking heaving

[butchyena]

is it a rarepair if it has less than 100 fics and in a lot of them theyre not the main pair and also nobody understands them oh my god he WOULDNT SAY THAT

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

KILLING MYSELF

reference

uh kaisercore

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Insatiable

aemond x wife!reader

Summary: A collection of Aemond and you taking advantage of ovulation week. 

Warnings: 18+ breeding kink, swearing, oral(m+f), fingering, p in v, public, dry humping, incorrect explanation/medical information bc its medieval and they actually don’t know anything abt women! 

Authors Note: the plot is being desperate for aemond so 🤷🏼‍♀️ this wasn’t on my w.i.p. bc it was written spontaneously in one sitting x 

Word Count: 3.7k i think this might just be pure filth like fr

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You have had the most intense need for Aemond the past two days. Anytime you’re both alone you’re on him begging for him to take you. This morning is no different as you beg on your knees blocking him from leaving your shared chambers. He stands above you with an amused smile on his face as you pout and bring your hands up to his thighs. 

“Husband, please.” you bat your eyelashes at him. “Gods please, please,” your pleas but a whisper. “Aemond, please. Let me just suck your cock before you train. Please?” his eye bulges at your brazen words. 

“You should hear yourself.” he says lowly as he tilts your chin up. “Utterly indecent.” he clicks his tongue watching you rub your thighs together. 

“Aem,” you whine pressing your forehead against his thighs. “Please,” your begging is going straight to his cock and he feels his control slipping. “Husband,” his fingers are tugging at his laces on his trousers the next second. “Thank you, Aemond.” you sit up quickly and pull his trousers down. You reach in and free him, bringing his tip to your mouth quickly. 

“Better, my needy little wife?” he groans as you suck harshly on his tip. You hum around him, lashing your tongue against his tip. When his droplets meet your tongue your eyes flutter shut and you suck him down your throat. “Fuck,” he lets out a throaty moan bracing his hands on the wood door behind you. 

You start to bob your head quickly while clenching your thighs and listening to his soft pants. His hips softly jerk and you moan around him matching your pace to his. You pull almost all the way off of him to suck and lap at his tip. Your fingers wrap around his shaft and pump him as you worship his tip. You wrap your lips around his tip and suck as you quickly pump him watching his stomach flex. He groans as his forehead presses to the door next as he lets out soft curses. 

Aemond can’t help but jerk his hips into your hands and mouth and when he looks down at you he sees you watching him with devotion. You start to suck down his length again and you feel him twitch down your throat. You smile, hollowing your cheeks as his seed starts to fill your mouth. You hum contently as you suck down everything he gives you. He pulls you off of him with a heaving chest and you help him back into his pants. He helps you stand and pulls you against his chest. 

“Thank you.” you mumble into his jerkin. “Do you think when you’re done training you could fill my cunny next?” you look up at him and smile seeing his cheeks flush. 

“I have some things that need tending to today.” he chuckles as a frown forms on your face. 

“Are they more important than filling your wife?” he clenches his jaw, willing his heart to stop racing. “I’m already dripping for you.” you grab his hand and guide it under your night dress. “I need you so badly, Aem.” you whine as he slides his finger down your slit watching you squirm in his arms. 

“We will both have to have some patience today.” he says through his teeth as he dips his finger into your warm cunt. You beg and plead him as he slowly pumps his finger before slowly pulling it out and trailing it back up your slit. “I’ll be back.” he presses his lips to your forehead before slipping his finger in his mouth and looking at you with a dark eye. “My sweet wife.” he hums and slips out the door behind you. 

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When Aemond walks into your shared chambers after his meetings he quickly shuts the doors hoping no one heard your whimpers. As he walks up the stairs he sees that you’re spread out across the bed in one of his tunics with your hand buried between your thighs. Your other hand is squeezing your breast above the material as your fingers circle your bud. You hear his footsteps and peel your eyes open as soft whimpers leave your lips. 

“Aemond,” your chest heaves as your fingers speed up. His fingers grab onto the hem of the tunic and he pulls it up and over your head. 

“What has gotten into you?” he chuckles as you grab his hand and bring it to replace your own between your thighs. He watches your eyes shut again as your hips roll against his fingers. He dips two fingers into your core and you moan loudly arching off the bed. “Spread your legs more for me.” he pats your thigh with his other hand and he settles between them. He brings his face down to watch your pleasure coat his fingers. His tongue flicks against your bud pulling gasps from you. 

“Gods Aem, yes,” you whine when he curls his fingers. He slams his fingers into you as his tongue circles around your throbbing bud. Your whimpers spur him on to lash against you faster as they become more broken and high pitched. “Aemond,” your legs slam around his head as your pleasure bursts through you. He pulls his fingers out quickly and soon his tongue is in their place lapping at your release. 

“Is this what you do when I’m not here?” he pulls back and looks at your heaving chest. “Hm?” he hums, starting to circle his thumb against your bud. “You sit here and play with your cunny?” your fingers grip around his wrist as your legs start to tremble. “Gods you’ve been no better than a common whore these past couple of days.” he starts to kiss up your body while his thumb continues to swirl. “Should I take the day tomorrow and just fill you?” he chuckles as you nod your head.

“Yes, please yes.” you nod your head as you feel your stomach tighten. His teeth take your nipple and your eyes roll back as your pleasure is pushed over the edge. Aemonds tongue circles the bud he bit before kissing across to your other as he slowly continues to slide his fingers through your wetness. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” he lifts up and presses his lips to yours as he starts to untangle from you. 

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Aemond had moved most of his meetings to the early morning in hopes that you will still be abed by the time he is done. As he’s walking down the hall to his next meeting he’s greeted by you turning the corner. He watches your face flush as your teeth dig into your lip and he groans knowing he’s going to be late to this meeting. You take quick steps and stop in front of him and look up at him with a small pout. 

“You didn’t even wake me to say goodbye.” you press your hands on his chest. 

“That’s because I would’ve had to say ‘goodbye’ to you for an hour.” he smiles resting his hands on top of yours. “I only have two more meetings and I’ll be done for the day.” he watches you step another foot closer pressing yourself against him. 

“Aem.” you whine softly. 

“Can you really not wait?” he cups your cheeks knowing he’ll be dragging you into the nearest tunnel entrance in a minute. 

“I need you.” his hands leave your face at your words and grabs your hand quickly leading you down an empty hall. He looks around and nods when he finds the alcove. He presses the door open and helps you in and clicks the door shut behind the both of you. When he turns you grab his face and pull him down to your lips. 

“This is going to be quick. I’m to be in the library in ten minutes.” he flips you and presses your front against the stone and starts to lift your skirts. “Of course you have nothing on under here.” he shakes his head as he’s met by your slick cunt. He grabs your ass and you arch back into him and press your cheek against the stone. He unlaces his trousers quickly and is soon pressing his tip around your wetness. 

“Aemond,” you pant and your nails dig into the cool stone as he presses into you. He snaps his hips into and you moan loudly. “Please.” you squeeze around him and he groans, digging his fingers into your hips. 

“What are you begging for now?” he chuckles at your small whines. 

“Fill me. Aemond please.” you roll your hips back into him and he snaps his hips into you harder. You lean back into him and with every snap of his hips he pulls a gasp from your lips. “Mm yes,” you pulse around him and smile as you feel his seed pour into you. He keeps pumping into you as you shake in his arms. “Thank you Aem.” you hum as he pulls out. He groans watching his seed slide down your thighs before he pulls your skirts back down. 

“Of course, my needy wife.” he presses his lips to yours. “Go back to our chambers and I’ll be there in a couple hours.” you nod as he helps you out of the tunnels. 

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“I’m sorry I’m late, Grand Maester.” Aemond quickly takes a seat at the table across from the man. 

“Do not worry, my Prince.” he offers Aemond a smile. “What is it that you needed to discuss?” he nods prompting him to speak. 

“How can I tell if my wife is with child?” he feels his cheeks flush as the Grand Maester smiles. 

“When was her last moon blood?” the maester asks and Aemond nibbles his lip, counting the days.

“About a fortnight ago,” he nods. 

“Why do you think she’s with child?” he raises his brow and Aemond knows his cheeks must be bright red now. Gods he should’ve gone to someone else first but he wanted someone with the proper knowledge but divulging this to a maester? 

“My wife has been particularly.. insatiable.” he avoids the maesters eye contact. 

“I see,” Aemond can hear the smile in his voice and he’s absolutely mortified. 

“Nevermind. Speak of this to no one.” Aemond rises rapidly and the maester stands with him. 

“My Prince, a moment.” he calls out. “That is a side effect of carrying a child, yes.” he nods his head. “But as you’ve told me it’s only been two weeks since her last moon blood I’m thinking it could be what we call ovulation.” Aemond scrunches his brows unfamiliar with the term. 

“And what is that then?” he purses his lips still not happy to be in this conversation regardless of whether he prompted it or not. 

“During the years of study we’ve been able to learn more about the woman’s body and what happens monthly along with the moon blood. Many tend to have an influx in certain.. needs around two weeks before their next blood. We think it has something to do with the body being ready to carry a child. It’s still being studied but I wouldn’t be surprised if she is carrying a child soon if what you speak is true.” the maester offers all of the knowledge he knows and Aemond nods, not understanding a thing he is speaking about. 

“Thank you, Grand Maester.” he turns and begins walking to his next meeting, taking a mental note to find books on this. 

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After his talk with the Grand Maester yesterday he kept you awake all night until he was spent. Gods the thought of you carrying his child had him.. what was that word the maester used? Ovulating. If you were ovulating then so was he. When he woke this morning the view of you in the soft golden light had his cock stirring. He pulled the blankets down your body and groaned watching your skin pebble. Your eyes blink open as he brushes his fingers across your cheek. He rolls over on top of you and you melt into him as he presses his lips to yours. 

You wrap your legs around his waist as he slides his tip up your slit. Your hands bury themselves into his unbound hair as it curtains around you. He continues to rock his hips into yours as you hold him closer. He kisses down your neck and sucks softly as you whimper beneath him. He reaches between the both of you as lines himself up with your entrance. As he pushes into you, your breath catches as you arch into him. 

“Aemond,” your fingers tighten in his hair as he starts a slow rhythm.  He kisses his way back up to your mouth sealing your lips together. His hips start to fall into yours quicker causing you to gasp into his mouth. “Yes, please,” your hands move to his back and hold him closer as he rolls his hips into yours after every thrust. 

“I’m going to keep filling you with my seed until I’m sure you’re carrying our child.” you hold him tighter at his words. “That’s what you want right?” he lifts up and watches your face scrunch with pleasure. “Your little cunnys telling you it wants to be filled? Hm?” he chuckles, feeling your legs shake around his waist. 

“Please, Aemond yes,” you whine rocking your hips with his. “Fill me, please. I want to grow our child. Please let me.” he presses his forehead against yours as his thrusts become erratic. “My husband please,” you arch up into him. “Let me give you children, Aemond.” your toes curl as your pleasure approaches. 

“My perfect wife.” he grunts, still snapping his hips into yours. “I’ll keep you bred and filled on this bed until you’re swollen with my seed.” his words push you over the edge and your eyes roll back as you fall apart. You shutter as he fills you, continuing to slowly rock into you. “Go back to bed. I wake you when I’m ready to fill you again.” he kisses you softly before he rolls back over and pulls you against his chest. 

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Aemond needs to know what the maester was talking about at their meeting. He makes his way to the library after making sure you were overly satisfied and tucked into bed for a nap. He refuses to ask for help in finding the section and starts where he believes it would be. He lets out a relieved sigh when he finds a couple different books and gathers them before bringing them to a table. A servant scurries over and offers him a couple candles before giving him his space. 

The accountings of the maesters tell him more than the Grand Maester did and he was thankful for taking the time. He was shocked to find out how thorough these maesters were doing their studies and was looking forward to seeing these signs appear on you. Thinking about your breasts swelling had his mouth watering. The sensitivity your body will feel when he presses his lips against you. His breathing deepens as he keeps reading and thinking about you growing with his child. He snaps the book shut when someone touches his shoulder. 

“What are you studying so dutifully?” he relaxes at your soft voice. You walk slowly around the front of his chair and he looks up at you with a raised brow. 

“Why do you have a cloak on?” he starts to open the fabric to pull it off only to be greeted by your bare body. “Gods,” he hisses. “We are in the library.” he silently scolds you yet still brings his hands to your waist and pulls you closer. He pulls the tie and the cloak slips to the ground as you stand between his legs. His eye travels over your chest that’s littered with his bite marks and as he looks between your thighs he can see the trail of your mixed pleasure from earlier still leaking down your legs.  

“I can be quiet.” you bite your lip. 

“No you cannot.” he chuckles, pulling you onto his lap and bringing his hands up to your breasts. “Do you like that someone could just walk over here and see how you’re begging for me? See how desperate you are?” he pinches your nipples and you let out a soft whine. 

“Please Aemond,” your body shutters as you grind against his trousers. 

“Take what you want then.” he smirks and sits back watching you hump against him. 

“I want you to touch me.” you whine into his neck as you rock your hips. “Please Aem,” you press your lips to his neck. “I need you to touch me, please I’ll- 

“Gods be quiet.” he puts his hand over your mouth. “The whole Keep will know what’s going on.” he groans as you continue to rock against his cock. His thumb moves to brush against your bud and you moan into his palm. He watches as your eyes squeeze shut the faster he circles his thumb and the way you shutter. He sees your pleasure ripples through you and onto his trousers. 

“We need to go to our chambers.” you nod with a heaving chest. He grabs the discarded cloak and wraps it around you once more. He leads you out of the library not bothering to put the books back. He tugs you along with him half tempted to pick you up to get you in bed quicker. His cock is straining against his trousers and he can feel the wet spot that you left behind. 

“Aem, slow down.” you whine and squeeze his hand. He groans and picks you up and continues to your chambers. You pout and dig your fingers into his back to which he responds with a quick spank. “Aemond.” you gasp. 

“What?” he chuckles, taking the last corner to your chambers. He opens the doors and thuds them closed behind us. He walks over to the bed and drops you back on it, watching the cloak open along with your legs. 

“Please,” you look up at him, spreading your legs wider. He unlaces his trousers and pushes them down enough to free himself. He coats himself in your wetness before pushing into you. “Yes.” you softly gasp as he starts to rock into you. He pushes the cloak open and grabs your breasts roughly as he snaps his hips into yours. 

“My perfect and eager wife.” he feels you squeezing around him tightly. “Going to be swollen with our child soon. I know it.” he grunts, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours desperately. You whine into his mouth as he ruts into you. Your high tears through you and you feel him fill you a second later. 

“Thank you Aemond,” you hold him tightly as he keeps pushing into you. “More,” your legs wrap around him and he chuckles. 

“Let me undress.” he kisses you softly before pulling your limbs off of him. “Pull off your cloak.” you whine sitting up and untying it from your chest. You toss it off the bed and sit up watching him slowly pull his clothes off. After his last piece of clothing hits the ground he starts walking over to you and you spread your legs for him. “Gods,” he rasps watching his seed leak out of you. 

“Please.” you reach out for him. “Please Aemond,” you whine. 

“Shh,” he shushes as he settles between your legs. He trails his hand between your thighs and slides his fingers through your wet core. He pushes two fingers in with ease and watches as your eyes shut. He feels your body tremble as he kisses across your chest before sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. His teeth tease the hard peak and your fingers tangle in his hair. 

“Yes.” you gasp grinding against his hand. “Aem, yes,” his thumb begins to swirl around your bud. Your body is vibrating with pleasure as he coaxes more out of you. He pulls his fingers out of you only to replace them with his cock. “Aemond,” you moan loudly. He lifts up from your chest and looks down to watch as he repeatedly buries himself in your dripping cunt.

Aemond watches your stomach flex and your breasts bounce with every thrust. Your mouth is open as the most obscene sounds come from you along with his name. You open your eyes and look up at Aemonds flushed face and his eye locks with yours. You cup his face and bring his lips to yours. The kiss is slow and sensual as he starts to slowly rock his hips into yours. He thrusts start to become harder, pulling soft gasps from you. 

“You’re taking me so well.” he whispers, boxing your head in with his arms. “I can’t wait to see you grow with our child. My beautiful wife.” he presses his forehead to yours. Your fingers dig into his back as your toes curl with pleasure. He groans as you pulse around him and his hips falter. He regains his composure and starts to push into you frantically chasing his pleasure. You squirm beneath him with whimpers falling from your mouth continuously. 

Aemond chuckles listening to you babble incoherently as your legs fall limply to your sides. He snaps his hips quicker into you while your fingers dig into his arm as you feel as if pleasure is never ending. A sigh comes from deep within you as you feel him start to fill you. His thrusts become slow as he kneels back and pulls out of you causing soft gasps to pour from your mouth at every inch. 

“Perfect.” he groans, flipping you both over so you rest against his chest. You whine when you feel him slip back inside you and slowly roll your hips against him. “Rest.” he runs his fingers up your spine, softly jerking his hips up into you. 

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masterlist 🔌 

and a pic belongs here again 🧎🏼‍♀️ 

taglist ✍️ 

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501

[tonycries]

I Wanna Get Freaky On Camera

Synopsis. On your knees in front of your boyfriend, it was just an innocent video, right? So why are you hearing his best friend’s voice from behind the screen?

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, being recorded, voyeurism, oral (male receiving), exhibitionism, mentioned threesome, cowgirl, dirty talk, pet names (babe), swearing.

Word count. 1.5k

A/N. Surprise post. Art by @_3aem on X.

“Smile for the camera, babe.”

You would - if you weren’t choking on his throbbing cock, tears streaming down your cheeks, throaty little gurgles muffled by his leaking tip hitting the back of your throat. 

The flashlight was blinding. 

Harsh light bouncing off your boyfriend’s half-lidded eyes, pupils blown. Chest rising and falling erratically, hungry gaze locked on the way you gag and moan around his dick. “Mmm yeah- oh fuck yeah, deeper. Milk me dry, babe. Look s’pretty on film.”

Strangled praises only spurring you to obey mindlessly, you relax your throat - shoving his pulsing dick deeper and deeper. Inch by inch. Your nose pressing into the tufts of hair on his pelvis, wet with precum and spit. Too cock-drunk to think too hard about the rustling from the screen.

Precum salty on your tongue, you flick his sensitive slit in a way that makes him throw his head back - phone unsteady in one hand, the other searing on your scalp. Breath hitching, he bobs your head in increasingly urgent movements - up, up, up. Desperate, jerky thrusts of his hips like he’s trying to fuck something delicious out for you.

Your boyfriend's knuckles are white on his phone. Deliriously, you wonder why the fuck he even bothered with the video at this point - too shaky, too impatient. 

Almost as if he could read your mind, a low whisper rings in your ear, breath hot on your face. “Don’ worry about that, babe.”, zooming in on your swollen, glossy lips. “Jus’ focus on what you’re doing like the filthy slut you are.”

Feeding off the electricity crackling in the air, you tighten the hands massaging his tight balls. Pressing right between them in the way you knew drove him crazy. 

You squeal - as much as you can with his throbbing erection lodged in your throat - nails digging into his hips as they tremble and buck into your plush mouth. “Ah! Oh fuck- Hngh- Baby, m’gonna m’gonna-”

His words turn into breathy moans, signaling the beginning of the end. With a final thrust, he explodes in thick ropes of cum that paint your mouth white. You struggle to swallow the hot spurts of seed quickly enough, coughing around his twitching cock. Cum spilling out of your bruised lips, specks splattering onto the back of his phone. 

Tears stinging your eyes, but you still refuse to break eye contact - batting your lashes innocently at him as you milk his cock for everything he’s worth.  

Chest heaving, lust-drunk words tumble out of his lips, “S’perfect. Look at her hah- look how fucking pretty she swallows my cum.” 

Words you’re slowly realizing aren’t meant for you.

Heart dropping straight to your dripping cunt, eyes widening as it strikes you - this fucker was on video call.

Now, he didn’t mean to trick you. He really did feel so awful about it - but watching the way his pretty girl’s lips stretched so sinfully around his cock - he really couldn’t bear to be stingy enough to hide it. 

Which is why, a dangerous smirk playing at the corners of his lips, he pats your hair soothingly as you sputter. “Now now. We’re not done yet. What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t give my buddy a front row seat to you creaming on my cock?”

Humiliation mingling with something carnal inside you, you freeze in shock as an awfully familiar voice chuckles from the phone. “C’mon now, sweetheart. I bet you’ll cum faster with an audience.” 

Thighs squeezing together. Heat rushing to your cheeks. Shit. Maybe you will. 

And for all the dark confidence on your boyfriend's face, you relish in the breathless gasp escaping him as you stand. Knees stinging where you straddle his hips - still-hard cock glistening with cum and saliva, leaking onto his toned abdomen. 

Surprise flickers across his face, swiftly replaced by a predatory excitement echoed by the appreciative groan from his best friend. 

“Well, might as well put on a show, huh?”

And with that, you sink down completely onto his still-sensitive length, groaning at the feeling of him throbbing inside you, heavy balls pressing into your ass. Tears clinging to your lashes at the delicious stretch, you don’t give yourself time to adjust to his thick cock, grinding in feral, mindless motions with reckless abandon. 

One hand has a bruising grip on your hips, steadying your rhythm as he thrusts up into you at an unforgiving pace matching yours. The other, angled just right to capture your dripping, wet hole stretched so shamefully on his throbbing dick. 

“That’s right, show him that perfect view. Goddamn. Imagine how jealous he is- fucking his fist just wishing that was you.”

“Sh-shit. She jus’ got wetter. Looks s’good with her pretty pussy stuffed.” Low groans spill from his phone, making you buck \wildly into his twitching cock. 

White-hot ropes of pleasure run down your spine at the lewd squelches sounding from the speaker - your boyfriend’s best friend not even trying to hide his desperate chase for pleasure.

Balls stinging your ass at the merciless cadence, it’s all you can do to brokenly stammer out “Sh-show.”

A moment fumbling to switch the camera and you wince as the light hits your eyes. A jolt going down your body at his best friend’s disheveled state.

Greedy gaze flickering between your boyfriend - brows furrowed and bottom lip under his teeth as he focused on fucking your snug cunt - and his best friend on the screen - hungry gaze locked on you and thumb mercilessly teasing his leaking tip. Veiny hand moving up and down. Up and down up and-

“Shit, baby. You’re hah- clenching down on me so hard, like being watched, hm?” a dangerous murmur. You whine mindlessly in agreement, mixing with the relentless slapping of skin as you fuck yourself deeper and deeper onto his heated cock. 

“Hngh- M’getting so fucking hard just watching her drunk on your cock. Look s’good split open on it.”

“Yeah? She’d probably look better split open on two. Maybe we should let you join in next time. Would you like that, babe? My little cockslut?”

You jolt as you’re finally addressed as the men spoke over you as if you were nothing more than an object. A carnal, ugly part of you delighting in the way you were so used. 

“Oh god, yes.” you pant, words pulling you closer and closer to the edge, head spinning so deliriously. “Wan’ both of you. Wanna feel both of you inside me. I need it.”

Your boyfriend's eyes narrow, pupils dilated with lust as he responds, “Anything for my greedy girl. But for now…” his voice trails off, thrusting deeper into your snug cunt. 

Onscreen, his best friend groans, doubling down on the hasty hand moving along his throbbing length. “Fuck, I wish I was there.”

A hum of agreement, “C’mon now. Beg me to fill you up, slut. Make sure our lil’ friend hears how desperate you are.”

“Yes, yes, yes” you chant, lost in the haze of pleasure. “Fill me up, please. Want it dripping out of me.”

At your words, your boyfriend’s pace falters, thrusts becoming erratic and desperate as he approaches his climax - his best friend not far behind, fist flying fervently up and down his glistening length - in tandem with the ruthless cock ramming into you.

“God. Such a good little slut f’us” your boyfriend praises, voice strained with pleasure. “Cum for us, baby. Let us see how much you want it.”

And that’s all it takes for you to see stars behind your closed lids, riding out wave after wave of pleasure on your boyfriend’s twitching cock. Finally, he empties inside you with a guttural groan, filling your fluttering walls to the brim with his seed. 

So much- there was so much. Seems he was the one that adored having an audience. Though, with the way your pussy is greedily milking his cock, you can’t say you’re far behind.

Your thighs shake in pain and pleasure as his hot cum leaks out of your overfilled pussy, dripping down your legs and onto his quivering balls as he fucks into you like an animal. Over and over and-

With all the strength you can muster, you crack an eye open to glance at the screen - only to catch the heavenly sight of him losing control. Fist faltering on his throbbing erection as with a final, forceful tug he spurts thick ropes of seed. An orgasm so hard that it leaks onto his lap and reaches his chest.

The three of you chasing peak after peak. So sinfully. 

Your ears ring, vision spotty as your high finally bates. Spent, you collapse against your boyfriend’s muscled chest, heart hammering wildly against both of your ribs, and cunt still twitching in sensitivity.

Still disoriented and completely fucked out, you almost miss the low murmur from above you. Almost.

“Can’t wait till you’re here to see this in person.”

- GOJO and GETO, TOJI and SHIU, SUNA and Osamu, ATSUMU and SAKUSA, Eren and Armin

A/N. I miss when this song was everywhere.

Plagiarism not authorized. 

[rafescorpsebride]

Being needy while Rafe is at work….

CW: phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation, daddy kink,

Rafe Cameron being your boyfriend was amazing and you couldn’t be happier. But one of the downsides was how much he worked, the late nights and the business trips. You were his favorite girl in the world though and he spoiled you with his love in all the ways he knew how. One of Rafe’s primary love languages was gift giving, something you woke up to earlier that morning on your side table. It was a small velvet box and inside was a custom made collar necklace.

One side read “Princess.” And the other side read “Slut.”

As you laid in bed later that night, wearing your favorite set of pajamas and lingerie, you waited for Rafe’s call. Your new necklace secure on your neck. Your phone finally vibrated, making your eyes blink rapidly. You must have dozed off but you answered. “Hey, baby!”

“Hey, princess.” Rafe’s low rumble on the other side of the phone was clear and you smiled. “How was your day, baby girl?” You tell him everything you did, adjusting yourself against the soft pillows before you thank him.

“Thank you for the necklace, Rafe. it’s so pretty.”

“Yeah? You like it, bunny? Mmm, which side of it do you have on right now?” You recognize the turn of his voice.

“I have it on ‘Princess.” You answer him and he makes a noise of approval.

“Mmm, why don’t you flip it around for me? I’m gonna FaceTime you.” Rafe explains before you shift your call, you hear the notification and see his handsome face on your camera.

His tie was undone, his suit pressed neatly as he leaned back in his office chair and he swept his eyes over you. “You’re perfect, princess. But I love seeing Slut across your neck. I wish it was my hand.” He smirks and you return the expression.

“Needy for me over the phone, daddy?”

“I feel like I’m gonna fuckin bust out of my pants. I miss your sweet wet pussy, baby girl. Miss it milking me dry.” You move, your knees pressing together and you turn the screen down.

Separating your thighs, you show him your damp panties in the middle and you hear him suck in a breath. “Fuck..you’re so wet for me, princess. I can’t take it. I want you so bad.”

You reach over to your drawer in your bedside table, pulling out your vibrator and you click it on. You move the phone up. Rafe grunts as you hold it against your chest, causing goosebumps to rise on the exposed area of your tits as you listen to him unbuckle his belt.

“Lemme see that pretty pussy. I wanna see it twitch while you think about my dick pulsing in you, princess.” Rafe orders and you immediately listen.

You remove your underwear, tossing them off the side of the bed and you press the toy against your clit. Holding the phone down so he can see it. You whimper as Rafe lets out a sharp exhale as you see him maneuver his body, his strong forearm flexing as he takes his cock in his fist. Pants and boxers down his thigh.

His red leaking tip drips onto his hand as he strokes it, moaning as you slide the vibrator down to your entrance, your slick making it easier.

“That’s it, baby. I want you creamin all over me. I wanna smear it all over your pussy and ass. I’m gonna mark your perfect body,” He huffs as you whine and spread your legs wider.

“Yeah? I want you to cum in me, daddy. I want my pretty boy to make me cry because it feels so fucking good,” You manage as your eyes start to roll back as Rafe speeds up.

“You’re such a fucking slut, huh? About to cum just thinking about me? Thinking about me railing that tight cunt? Then sucking up your mess with my mouth?” He groans as you move the toy against your center again, your chest heaving as your back arches off the bed.

“Feels so good, Rafe.” You whisper.

“I bet it does, princess. I wanna wrap my hand around your throat while I fuck you, make sure everyone can hear you scream how good daddy makes you feel.”

That pushed you over the edge and you cried out. You gripped the vibrator, trembling as you came all over the wand. Rafe followed suit and he moaned loudly, cum gushing all over his fist and fingers. He panted and his stomach flexed underneath his shirt as he fucked himself through it.

You removed the toy, raising the phone so he could see your face as you licked off the tip. Cum coating your tongue.

“Ah, fuck. My pretty little whore being so good for me. Sucking off what I’m gonna taste as soon as I get home.” Rafe gasped and let his hand fall off, his dick slapping against his thigh.

“I miss you,” You say quietly as you relax against the bed and Rafe gives you a soft smile.

“I miss you too, princess. I’ll be home in a few hours. Better get some sleep. You’re going to need it. I’m gonna stretch that pussy of yours and take my time. My pretty bunny deserves to be worshiped.”

@hauntedfawnn @rafesheaven @oceandriveab @oceanblvd111 @sturnioloshacker @cameronsprincess @stillwjk-channie-lixie @starkeysbabygirl @rafescvntyclubgf

[bowsandsturniolos]

pairing: sub!chris x soft!dom!reader

warnings: smut, dirty + sweet talk, hand job, begging, no actual p in v, teasing, edging, oral, no use of y/n, dry humping, use of vibe, pet names (baby, sweetheart, good boy, ma, etc).

-------------------------------------------------------------

you're on chris's lap, his boner poking into your thigh. you let out a shaky sigh, your resolve slowly crumbling more and more.

"chris, your brothers are home. this isn't.. no." you mumble, for some reason still trying to reason with him, knowing damn well he won't break.

"please, ma? i need you. s-so.. fuck. so bad." he whispers, rutting his hips up. your tongue runs along your inner cheek as you stare at the wall, thinking.

if you're honest, you don't really feel like having sex right now. but you still want to get chris off. you glance over at the needy boy trapped between your thighs.

"can you stay quiet?" you ask casually, cocking an eyebrow. you know damn well he can't. but maybe he'll try.

"yes, ma. i'll.." he swallows. "i'll be good. i'll be.. quiet." his breathing is labored, his stomach already heaving. you haven't layed a finger on him.

"take your clothes off." he shudders but wastes no time, immediately tugging down his red shorts, along with his white tee, leaving him in his red boxers, a prominent bulge tenting the crotch.

"those too." you say sternly, lifting your shirt over your head and tugging down your shorts, leaving you in just your panties and bra, which are a matching cherry red.

he slips off his boxers, pooling at his ankles. his cock springs free, flushed tip dripping with precum, shaft throbbing, veiny, and thick. you lick your lips at the sight.

you climb over him, hovering above him, lips inches from his.

"now, chris. what made you think you could be begging me all day to fuck you? whinin' in my ear like a fuckin slut." you grumble.

he looks away with flushed cheeks, his eyes full of shame. you grab his chin, forcing him to look at you again.

"i'm sorry!" he splutters, avoiding eye contact. "i've just.. been so hard for you all day i.. i need you mama."

"so what is it that you want, chris?" you coo, biting back a mischievous grin.

"i- i want you to.. to make me cum. please. i'm.. it hurts ma. i'm so hard i need.. i need help." he pants.

"be careful what you wish for." you say with a grin, pressing your lips to his before crawling back down his body.

you stop once your mouth is level with his standing dick. you smile, getting on your knees between his already spread legs.

you wrap your hand around his base, kissing his tip with purposeful pressure. his head throws back.

"nnngghh-" he whimpers out. you grin, latching your lips around his pretty pink tip, never once looking away from his bright red face.

your tongue swirls clean and precise circles over his leaking tip, the beads of precum leaving a salty and enjoyable taste behind.

he's gasping for air, stomach already heaving, white-knuckling his bed sheets. he's biting his lip so hard you think it might bleed, trying desperately not to make a sound, since his brothers are home.

you pull off and his grip loosens on the sheets, stomach muscles relaxing. he looks back down at you with furrowed eyebrows. "why.. why'd you stop?"

you smile. "don't worry sweetheart. gimme just a sec." you coo. "just cover your eyes for me, baby."

he does just that, breath shaky. you open your nightstand drawer, pulling out a vibrator.

"keep your eyes shut honey." you coo. you carefully climb between his legs and to his standing dick, very carefully switching it onto the lowest setting, praying he doesn't hear it.

when he has no reaction, you press the round end of the vibrator to his tip. he lets out a strangled moan, moving his hands from his eyes to grip the bed sheets.

"i didn't tell you you could uncover your eyes, did i?" you whisper into his ear. his eyes are screwed shut from pleasure anyway, but he's still disobeying you.

"cover your eyes like i told you to. and don't move them unless i say." and with that, you turn the vibrator up to the highest setting, grab his base, and press it to his tip.

he lets out strangled moans, kicking his feet, curling his toes. his stomach caves in like a juice box that a little kid ran dry.

you can tell it's too much, but he never once complains. he doesn't trust his own voice right now. you swirl the vibrator around his head.

he gasps at the change in sensation. precum leaks down his buzzing shaft. suddenly, you get an idea. you turn the vibrator off, to which he whimpers and kicks his feet. you knew he was close.

you immediately drop down on him, taking him fully in your mouth. you swirl your tongue around him a few times, making him whimper and whine, eyes still covered.

you pull off just about an inch, switching on the vibrator. you hold it to the base of his cock, sending vibrations all throughout his dick.

you swallow around his now vibrating dick. he lets out uncontrollable whines, moans, whimpers and pleas. you continue to suck him off with the vibrator until he's rutting into your mouth.

once he's about to cum, you remove your mouth and vibrator. he cries out, whimpering. "n-no! wha-!? mama, please.. i- i was so good! i-" he begs.

"i know, baby. it's just not time for you to cum yet. you can open your eyes." he removes his hands from his face, revealing the tears of pleasure and frustration streaming out.

you grin. he looks pathetic. and that's exactly how you like him. you straddle him, hovering over him. you take his cock and pin it to his tummy, his underside facing you. you lick a stripe up his underside.

he lets out a gargled moan. you sit on his base, your lace covered cunt on top of the underside of his cock, pinning it to his tummy, tip sitting right above his belly button.

"wha.. w-what're you doin ma?" he asks timidly.

"whatever i want to. now sit back and feel." he nods. you start to grind your hips on him. he moans, eyes shutting and fingers gripping the sheets.

you run your hands all over his tummy. you've always loved his tummy. it's so fun to kiss, bite, suck, leave hickeys on.

you've also always loved that he doesn't have a literal six pack, the slight stomach pooch that he has makes you wet every time you look at it.

you start to rub circles over his tip. he ruts his hips up, this whole time letting out strangled whines and moans.

this goes on for a couple minutes before he screams suddenly. "m'gonna cum!" his eyes screw shut, back arching.

you begin to coo sweet nothings. "yeah? you gonna cum all over this pretty tummy of yours, your gonna cum all over yourself baby. yeahhhh, that's right." you hum softly, rubbing circles over his inflamed tip.

"nnnghh-!" and then he cums. his back arches as he cries out, his warm white seed shooting out all over his stomach. you drool at the sight, heat pooling in your core, wishing he'd came on your stomach instead.

"good boy.. look at you. all messy for me.. yeah.." you coo sweetly, still grinding on him, rubbing his tip.

"mmph- that's.. ma i'm done." he whispers, starting to get overstimulated. you grin.

"ohhh, baby. you thought you were done?" you chuckle, grabbing the vibrator.

-------------------------------------------------------------

author's note: hey yall! i haven't made a fic in a while so im a bit rusty, but i hope you guys enjoyed! love yall sm! with love, bows, and sturniolos. 💗🎀

@whore4mattsturniolo @evie-sturns @rysturns @sweetshuga @sturnsvelocity @emely9274

[hysteria-things]

PLEASE WRITE LIKE A LITTLE BLURB OR SOMETHING ABOUT MATT GRABBING READER'S FACE LIKE HOW HE DID WITH CHRIS

thank you😭

TEMPTATION (part two)

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dilf!matt x babysitter!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you fight to not fall for matt’s charm for the second time the same day, but the tension is too strong that you can’t resist.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, oral (female receiving), fingering, praising/degradation, p in v (pull out method), stomach bulge

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,563

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i want to get through my requests and sprinkle them into fics so if you see something that seems like it was requested a while ago that’s why LOL

(dilf!matt au originally by @luvs4matt)

clinking of dishes and water running is a good distraction. the sudsy soap coating your hand on the sponge as you wash a plate feels warm on your skin. you’re focusing as hard as you can on your senses, matt standing just a few feet away while you’re helping him clean up after dinner.

he brought evelyn to bed a few minutes ago, and now you can feel him staring into your back. your heart pounds in your chest, thinking about what occurred only this afternoon in this same kitchen. nobody made a peep about it after it happened, but that’s all you’ve been thinking about all day—his cock moving past your lips so naturally, his grunts and groans intensifying the closer he got, his praises, the way he made you look up at him with the soft grip of his hands on your cheeks…

you bite your lip and clench your thighs at the thought, but you shake it out of your head the second it arrives.

you can’t do that again. that was a mistake.

when you dry the last dish and place it into the cabinet above, you jump when you notice matt standing directly in front of you when you turn around. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” he chuckles. “i want to thank you for your help today. you know, with ev and all.”

“you’re welcome.” you say quickly, taking a long exhale. “it’s my job.”

his arms cage you in against the counter, each one planted on the edge of it by your sides. he groans, leaning into where his lips ghost yours, and your chest heaves even faster. he takes his knee and parts your legs with it, pressing firm against your covered mound. he starts kissing down your neck, biting at the skin in the process. not to leave marks, but to show you how desperate he is for you as much as you are for him. “tell me to stop.” he mumbles against your jaw, bringing his face up to meet yours again.

your eyes dart over his features, shaking from how turned on you get from such little contact. “i can’t.” you whisper, heart beating rapidly.

“say it.” he murmurs, teeth nipping at your bottom lip, making you gasp slightly. “say that you want me to stop.”

“no,” you say shakily. he’s so fucking mesmerizing that it annoys you, but you’re aching for his touch, his body, him. it’s only been a month of nannying for him, but goddamn do you need it bad.

matt pulls back, frustratingly running a hand through his hair. you let out a sigh, finally being able to breathe when you think he’s going to walk away, but no. he grabs your hips and lifts you roughly onto the counter, caging you in once again by pulling you towards him with a hand possessively wrapped around your waist. “you’re fucking killing me.” he pants, moving to raise your arms above your head to remove your shirt and unclip your bra. he smirks when you help him get off your leggings, throwing them aside. you wince when the elastic of your panties snaps against your flesh when he rips them off.

“fuck.” he breathes, scanning your body over and over again. “fuck.”

your nipples are hard peaks, breasts moving with each breath you take. there’s a sticky mess on your thighs, your dripping hole aching for his cock. he hurries to get his shirt and pants off, eyes still locked on your flushed body.

“look at her,” he says, thumbs spreading your soaking folds. his eyes look frantic and hungry, pupils dilated almost fully as he admires your pussy. he runs a finger up the slit, and you shiver. “she’s practically begging for me.”

the ticking of the wall clock seems to become louder when you watch him kneel, hot breath against your sensitive heat. he flicks his tongue once… twice… three times over your clit, and you jolt with each lick. he runs a hand over your thigh, squeezing the inside before he starts to suck at your bud, also soaking one of his fingers with your juices before inserting it. a hitched gasp is caught in your lungs, matt putting in his middle finger next.

his eyes roll back, tasting you and fucking you with his fingers at the same time. you whine, gripping tight onto his hair for stability. he groans, adding a third, scissoring the digits nuzzled into your cunt. arching your back, you moan from how full you feel already. you’ve never been fingered with more than two, but this—

you snap out of it when he goes in with four, and you’re so wet that they move in and out quite easily. he hums approvingly, the vibration letting another moan slip out of you. the erotic sounds of his tongue and squelching from his fingers make your toes curl. you can feel him stretch you out at the way he moves his digits, and you clench around them.

keeping your grasp on his head, your low moans turn into whines. he’s eating you out like a starved man as if you’re his last meal. it seems that from now on whenever matt is hungry, he’ll just go for your pussy. your eyes flutter, mouth agape when your hands reach to your tits and clutch hard, twirling your nipples.

he pulls his mouth away from your swollen clit, licking his lips to get an extra taste. his knuckles plunge harder, curling his fingers to hit that spot right where you want it. you start to twitch and quiver, the knot in your stomach snapping the second it appears. he slides out the digits from your still-tight hole.

you’re left a trembling mess, settling down from your orgasm when he stands back up. he wants to kiss you so you can taste yourself, but he can’t. sex is one thing, but kissing you is another. it’s more dangerous because if he does, he won’t ever turn back from wanting you.

instead, he forces his fingers into your mouth, and you lick them clean with a satisfied hum. “good girl…”

then, his palms hold the creases of your knees, lifting and spreading your legs open. his dick throbs, wrapping his hand around the base and pumping himself a couple of times to get him harder than he already is. looking at your naked body while he does so makes him grunt, hair sticking to his forehead from sweat. he nudges the head between your folds, coating it before slowly pushing into you.

“come on.” he grunts in concentration, watching your face contort in pleasure when he pushes in inch by delicious inch. “good girl, stretching out for me.”

you let out a small yelp when he’s balls deep, slamming your eyes shut from the pleasurable pain by accommodating his size. “shh, shh.” he soothes you, pecking your shoulder. he starts thrusting slowly, but gradually gets faster when he feels you split open for him. “there you go.” he sighs contently, spreading your legs even wider to get deeper. “what an obedient slut, taking my cock.”

your hold onto the counter for dear life, moans getting more high-pitched until you slap your hand over your mouth. evelyn is sleeping just upstairs, and you have to remind yourself of that. your vision is blurry from the tears forming in your lids, eyes rolling back so far that only the whites show.

strings of cum connect to his thighs and your cunt, the sight having matt drilling into you faster to the point where his tip reaches your cervix. you feel the bulge in your belly when he bottoms out, and that alone has you clamp down on his dick harder like a vice. he curses under his breath when he sees himself peeking out of your abdomen. “such an innocent whore.” he coos, and you moan from the degrade, it being muffled by your palm. “you like this dick?”

removing your hand, you babble some ‘fucks’ and ‘oh gods’ when you clench repeatedly. you start to spasm again, the same hot feeling building up like it did before. you’re not a screamer by any means, but your pants and whimpers alone have matt’s thrusts get sloppier. he notices your expressions and smirks.

“look at me.” he snarls, hips snapping against your ass and grabbing your face with so much force that your cheeks squish. your eyes flutter to look at him, half-crossed. he smiles menacingly at your dumbed out face before speaking. “i want you to look at me when you cum. i want you to look at who’s fucking you this good.”

moaning in response, some spit coats the corners of your mouth. he can tell you’re close by your incoherent voice and squirming, but he’s also not far behind either. you throw your head back, biting your lip to lessen your filthy sounds when you gush around his cock, milking him for all he’s worth. he pulls out with a wet pop and groans, balls tightening as he spurts hot cum all over your stomach.

it takes a load of silence to get your breathing back to normal and your brain less hazy, tilting your head when you realize something peculiar painted with his semen: the letter ‘M.’

he must be so damn proud of himself.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @mattgirl4lyfe @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @freshsturns @etershine @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew @sturnsmadl @starz4star

[buckyalpine]

Dry humping chubby Bucky

Just imagine dry humping with subby chubby beefy Bucky. Using him for your pleasure, moaning and whining while you hump and grind yourself all over him. He’s a shy baby who can’t believe someone who looks like you would be so into someone like him. No amount of convincing works, which is how you both ended up on the couch with you straddled on his lap, rubbing yourself on his achingly hard length. 

You worship him, whispering the sweetest words while taking your clothes off one by one, leaving you in just the tiniest pair of lace panties, rubbing your clit right where the tip of his cock rests in his pants. 

“You’re so pretty like this, big boy” Your hands grip onto his thick shoulders, your fingers toying with the hair at the nap of his neck, tugging it every so slightly. His face is flushed, pink lips parted, gasping every time you move just right, his balls heavy, “My pretty baby boy” 

“Oh God” He whimpers, feeling spurts of precum drip from the tip, his entire body throbbing from how good it feels. At some point you lean back, grasping onto his thighs, putting your body in display for him while you continue to swivel your hips on his erection and he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. 

“Fuck, James” You chant and moan his name, brows knitted together, refusing to take your eyes off him because he’s the one who makes you feel this good. You get off just getting to rub yourself on him and he better know it. He hesitates to touch you but when you throw your arms around his neck again, your breasts practically in his face, he can’t help but grab onto you. 

“Angel” He warns as best as he can, his cock his leaking and making a mess in his his pants, he’s going to blow his load if you don’t stop but you grind down hard on him and circle your hips. “S-slow down, I-please” 

He doesn’t want to blow just yet, he loves how you worship him, you turn into such a needy slutty kitten, making him feel so good and what kind of boyfriend would he be if he came in his pants like a little boy. He tries so hard to hold on, to stop himself from cumming but you make it impossible. 

You notice his hands grip you harder, his fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises, chest heaving up and down. You let out a moan right by his ear at his cock swells, balls pulling tight to his body. Before he could say anything, sticky ropes of his spend throb out his cock from where your pussy humps him perfectly. 

He buries his face into your bare chest, taking a nipple into his mouth to muffle his moans, his hips stuttering from underneath, his large form under you squirming and trembling. You register his needy ministrations, hiding his face between broken moans, puffs of air hitting your warm skin as he pants. You pause your movement, your hands coming up to his face, pulling him away from your chest. 

“Did you cum baby?” You cup his scruffy cheek, making him look at you, his sweet blue eyes looking at you with shyness, the blush on his cheeks spreading to his ears. He nods, refusing to meet your eyes while you coo, kissing his face before capturing his soft lips. All he can do is nod, still looking away from you, nervously squeezing your hips in his large hands. 

“Sorry, I couldn't hold it” He whispered making you fall in love with him more. 

“Did it feel good, handsome?” Your nose bumped against his, loving the smile that graced his lips, blinking up at you. “I want to make you feel good, baby” 

His eyes grow wide when you slink off his lap and start to tug at the waistband of his pants, urging him to lift his hips so you can pull them down to his knees. He wants to squeeze his thighs shut, he isn’t even hard anymore. He doesn’t think you’d want to look at him when he’s soft, made a mess all over himself. 

“Angel, what are you-”

“Gotta clean you up, big boy” You take his softening cock, covered his silky cream into your mouth, lapping him right up, loving the slutty, desperate moan he lets out. He’s so sensitive, body jolting with each lap of your tongue but you’re not gonna be finished with him until he gets how perfect he is for you. 

Anyway. 

[twola]

I always feel guilty requesting stuff because you deserve so much more but if you write dubcon, I'd love some low honor Arthur dubcon breeding! Either way, your writing is amazing, keep up the good work ❤️

Low honor Arthur is a douchenozzle. And secretly has a breeding kink…? Sure, let's go with that. And maybe this is a little dubcon-ish? Bah, I feel like I am no good at dubcon. Also no good at LH Arthur…

Fortitude II

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link ➵ Previous

The sun has barely risen in the east, but in the warmth of the tent, you have been up for what feels like hours. Or it feels like hours that Arthur has been between your legs, lapping at your core, one hand holding your bucking hips down, the other up and squeezing your breast as you nearly cry from the overstimulation. 

“A-Arthur, p-lease-” You stutter as his rough tongue licks up the seam of your body for the umpteenth time. He grunts into your cunt; breath hot, and continues his assault. It is only after he has wracked from you another two orgasms that he relents, sitting up on his knees and wiping his damp beard. You can do nothing but stare at the pitch of the tent, utterly spent.

“Y’ make such nice little noises there, darlin’,” He rumbles with a self-satisfied smirk.

Perhaps, as you try to catch your breath, this is his penance for acting the fool yesterday. Perhaps this is him trying to garner your favor. 

You hear him spit into his hand and then the telltale sound of wet skin on skin fills the tent as you know he’s stroking his cock. One of his hands grabs the meat of one of your thighs, moving your leg to hook over his. Arthur leans over you and his face finally comes into your line of sight. 

You have the wherewithal, at this point, to move your other leg outside of his thigh, spreading yourself open for him and he hums in approval, leaning over you further with a hungry look in those blue eyes. 

Arthur’s cock prods at your entrance, and you spread your legs wider to grant him access. He hisses as his hips buck against yours, his cock sluicing through the arousal of multiple orgasms - cursing as he slides in so easily. He’s not a small man by any means - but you are just so goddamn wet and ready for him that before either of you realize it, he’s buried to the hilt.

“Fuck-” he spits out as his fingers splay across your thigh, clenching at your skin and leaving red marks in their wake as he finds a rhythm - hard, sharp, fast - there is no softness about this man, but as you’ve seen him beat other senseless, the restraint he has with you in his bed is probably as close as he can get.

A grunt that echoes through the tent recenters you, “Wanna fill you up-”

“We can’t - y’can’t,” you moan high and flighty as his cockhead keeps hitting that sensitive spot inside you, “You can’t get a child on me.”

“Why - oh goddamnit - why not?”

“Arthur- you’re not seri-”

One of your knees gets heaved over his shoulder, and you’re unable to respond in words, instead a hoarse, needy moan bubbles up from your chest.

“I should take you and find a little house and make you my little wife, come home and fuck y’ stupid every night.” Arthur snarls, heaving his hips into yours with little care for gentleness. A strangled noise escapes your throat as your other thigh is pulled up and propped on his other  shoulder. He looms, predatory, before slamming his hips down as he veritably bends you in half.

“I should put a baby in you. Yeah, you’d like that, huh?” He rasps through pounding, punishing thrusts, “Keep you home and chasin’ my children. Belongin’ utterly to me.”

“Ar-Arthur!”

“Yeah, girl, you want it?”

“I want it-!”

“Fuck-” 

He throws his head back and moans, loudly, as he pours his hot spend into your cunt. Spurt after vicious spurt, panting hoarsely as he wrings himself dry. You mewl, completely uncaring of volume out here in the woods, as your body seizes in response, making Arthur nearly collapse on top of you.

The gunslinger wheezes as he lets go of your legs, letting them fall to either side of his hips before he rolls off of you, landing on his back next to you in the bedroll. You recover your wits, gasping as the final throes of ecstasy roll through your body.

And then, you realize what he did. You realize what you said.

“Are you goddamn serious?” 

Arthur doesn’t look at you, covering his eyes with his forearms as he pants, coming down from his exertion.

You turn over in the bedroll facing away from him, hugging yourself, trying to calm yourself down, and failing miserably as you feel his spend drip between your thighs.

“Y-you can’t say that and not mean it.”

You’re ashamed as tears begin to roll down your face - mad at yourself for being so easily upset - mad at yourself for letting him upset you so - furious at him for using you for the cheap high of coming inside a warm cunt. Mad at yourself for wanting that - wanting him in that way. Wanting something that seems so entirely out of character for him, who on a good day, you would hesitate to call him ‘lover’. Mad at yourself at even thinking of a possibility of a future like that.

His burly arm wraps around you and pulls your entire body back against him, his skin still warm and clammy from exertion. 

“Why’re you sayin’ I don’t mean it?” His hand settles over your belly, rubbing gently. 

Your fists unclench, “Wh-what?”

Arthur sits up on his elbow, unwinds his arm from your waist. Drawing back the curtain of your hair, he scowls as he sees the wet trail of tears down your cheeks.

“Look’it me, woman.”

You turn, blinking up at him. His thumb, callused and trigger-worn, swipes across your wet cheek.

“D’you want to be with anyone else?”

“N-no.”  You sniffle.

“D’you want somethin’ after all the runnin’ around we’re doin’?”

“Yes….”

“Good. It’s settled.” He says, manner-of-factly, as if he didn’t just ask you for a future when your entire relationship has felt like a series of one-night stands.

“And if you just got a child on me?” You confront the issue head-on, and you can still feel the dripping of him from your body.

Arthur smirks, haughtily proud at the idea. Before you can make a retort, he leans in and presses his lips against yours insistently. You are surprised, letting him easily press his tongue into your mouth and against yours. One of his hands weaves into your hair, cupping the back of your head gently - almost lovingly.

At the sign of affection, you tremble in his embrace, moaning into his mouth as you throw your leg over his hip, opening your core to him again, rolling your hips against his pelvis and his member, hardening as it fills with blood once more.

He pulls away and you gasp, breathless, your hand tight on his bicep, holding on for dear life.

Arthur Morgan smirks, in that way that he does before he’s about to rob someone blind. 

“Then we best find someone to marry us. Cause I’m gonna keep on fillin’ you until it takes.”

[e3rt]

JEFF the KILLER rewrite by Ekatlani

Hi everyone, I want to start by thanking everyone who has supported my work so far and waited patiently for this post.

Alongside that I want to thank @gh0ulkitty for the amazing editing they provided throughout this. Without all the community support and help I don't think I would have completed this project to the standard it is.

Thanks to all my mutuals and discord friends for the feedback and assistance as well

enjoy!

Jeff the Killer 

By EkatLani 

♱ 

Pig shit. Pig shit, blood and wet earth. That is how Liu would describe his childhood home; a plethora of vile stenches which permeated the air, briefly interrupted by conversation, boredom and family dinners. His brother, too, who sat perched on the wooden fence nasally inhaling the exhumed smoke he periodically released from his dry lips.  

It helped with the smell, he insisted, although Liu had an inkling that was just an excuse.  

The eldest stood, ankle deep in a slurry of swine excrement, feed and damp dirt, attempting to shovel the bulk of it into a wheelbarrow. Rain had swept through the farm last night, emulsifying the flurry of foulness into the most wretched of chores. The air was still bitterly chill, both brothers wearing heavy layers under their raincoats to stave off the assault of backsplash from the shovel. The heavy thunk of the mud splattering every which way as it landed against the aged metal. 

Jeff seemed unbothered, laughing as Liu had groaned awake when the smell carried through the crack of their bedroom window and into the still dark room.  

“Cheer up, soldier, no school today!” He had responded wildly while combing his black dyed hair into place, his first cigarette of the day hanging lazily between his bared teeth. 

Jeff, for as long as Liu could remember, woke up at the crack of dawn, far before the rest of the house. To do what? Liu didn’t know really, probably to jerk off uninterrupted. He was always showered, dressed, awake before even the laborer that was their father, who frequently pestered Liu for his sleeping habits. He compared him to their mother with a nasty snarl on his lips every time. 

Liu had rubbed the sleep from his eyes and, in one wide sweep, he tossed the blanket from his body, slithering out of bed.  

His brows furrowed as he sighed deeply, “Fuck this.” Before long, there they were, taking turns cleaning up nature's gift while the aforementioned swine serenaded them with squeals. The brevity of missing school was a small mercy, at least... 

Jeff’s boots squelched into the ground as he landed next to his brother. Puberty had been kind to him in some ways. Despite being a year younger, at seventeen, he stood a solid head above the older. Lithe with corded muscles whose strength betrayed his appearance, he was a lot more durable than he looked. 

“Pass it over sissy, before I burn my lips.” He spat the butt into the ground, reaching his pale, spindly hand outward. Liu released his grip on the shovel and took his station leaning against the fence, which shifted from bearing his weight. 

Jeff may be taller, but Liu was more compact, bearing the physicality of labor from a young age. With calloused hands now tucked into the pockets of his coat, plastic crinkling sharply, he exhaled, smirking at Jeff’s remark.  

He took it in stride instead of catching the bait. If he did, it wouldn’t be long until the two were dragged back inside with busted lips and scabby knees. Undoubtedly with hungry stomachs,  sent to bed dinnerless.  

The younger sibling hunched over the shovel, using his heel to press the sharp end further into the dirt.  

“Do you think we’ll finish this today?” Liu inquired, voice hoarse.  

“Oh, definitely not.” Jeff responded jovially. 

“Ugh, I fucking hate this.” 

“Yeah,” Jeff heaved, leaning against the shovel, “Want to do something else?” 

“And get our ass beat? Smart move.” 

“You’re no fun sometimes.” He decided, dropping the shovel into the slurry, trudging off unceremoniously into the nearby shrubbery. Liu shook his head and continued the work, not bothering to follow him. He’ll reappear before dinner, regardless of what he wasted his time doing. 

The farm was an empty open space graced with a selection of pigs, ripe for slaughter, surrounded by thick foliage. The smell he could handle, the shit he could handle, but the blood? Pig squeals sounded awfully human at the best of times, and the panicked screams before death were deafening—a job Liu just couldn’t do. A job Jeff was kept from, if only for his own sake. But no, no slaughter for him.  

Liu’s senseless meandering in his own mind was interrupted by the bellowing voice of Mr. Woods, “Alright! Boys, dinner. Inside!” He clapped all the while, beckoning them. Liu planted the shovel and dragged himself inside.  

Jeff didn’t come home until after dinner, the likes of which was heavy and uncomfortable. Liu could tell his father was waiting, just waiting for a reason to blow up.  

Liu tried to be inconspicuous even as he swatted flies away from his face. As if a sudden move would reveal his inability to complete his chores.  

His mother, who was still in the kitchen as the two men ate, insisted on cooking with the window open. Despite the weather, or smell or insects, the narrow window would stay open, and she would gaze out. Placid to the world as she cooked, humming unidentifiable tunes.  

The food was tasteless in the dense air of tension, holding Liu’s head as he fixated on the plate. Mr. Woods didn’t speak, open mouth chewing throughout the evening, slurping at his lukewarm beer. The sun had long set when Jeff had stumbled through the door, and Liu braced for the pot to bubble over. Spill its turbulent fluids throughout the home. 

His mother stood in place, peaking at the scene from beneath her curtain of dark hair. Still, she made no move to interject, remaining a silent observer in her own home. Mr. Woods said nothing, eerily still, and for a moment, Jeff simply stood in the doorway.  

The brothers shared a concerned and confused glance, weary. Cautiously, Jeff broke the pause by walking further, his scruffy Great Pyrenees a few steps behind. The dog strolled lazily, tongue lolling out and white fur muddled from the weather.  

Jeff flinched as a bottle suddenly shattered against the door behind him, exploding beer and glass shards everywhere. 

“Get that filthy fucking dog out of my house!” Their father roared, sending the dog scrambling away in a panic, back to the fields. Jeff stood, frozen, and Liu hurried to interject. But when his father looked him dead in the eyes, Liu looked back down at his half full plate.  

“Good job today boy.” Mr. Woods drawled, the words feeling harsh and unearned. Liu briefly glanced up and nodded.  

Mr. Woods then turned back to the boy who still stood by the door and nodded toward the stairs.  

Both brothers knew what that meant. Jeff all but ran up the stairs, leaving the rest of the family in a familiar silence. Liu struggled to eat the rest of his plate, casting furtive glances at his father all the while.  

Mr. Woods sat back and snapped his fingers for another drink, the wall still damp from his wrath.  

Liu excused himself and hurried to bed, laying wide eyed until Jeff returned to their room later that night. He was limping, calves branded with red welts.  

“I don’t know why you do it to yourself, Jeff.” He whispered into the darkness of the room. 

“I don’t know why you do fucking nothing, Liu.” He rasped, voice dry and sharp, accusatory. And Liu sat with his guilt for the rest of the night.  

If Jeff had to describe school, it would be; boring, boring and boring. As were most things. Incredibly boring and uninspired.  

He preferred staying on the farm, with the pigs and his brother and his dog and all the things he could do with no one giving a shit. All things that were his and his alone. 

He remembered the day he realized he hated school– he must’ve been six or seven? He had approached a girl on the playground who was swinging from monkey bar to monkey bar, small and pudgy with flushed cheeks and twin braids.  

Other kids compared her to a pig, making snorting noises at her until she teared up and ran away. Jeff liked her, Jeff liked pigs.  

So, when he went up to her, he attempted to jump for the bar next to the one she was grappling, hoping she would like him too. Give him her attention, and he could see her do something other than cry and scream, something no one else got to see her do.  

But the little girl kicked at him.  

Jeff planted into the sand, brows furrowing in anger as she yipped at him to leave her alone. In retrospect, she probably assumed the boy meant to chase her off the bars and ostracize her like the others, and maybe now Jeff would have responded differently.  

However, his frustration at the rejection was more emotional than his young body could contain. How could she, fat and short, push away the opportunity to have a friend like him? Who was much taller than the other boys and could easily make them leave her alone. Was she stupid? 

He figured she must be and grabbed her by the ankle, yanking her down into the sand with him. Anger soothed as she hit the earth below.  

She scraped both her knees, wobbly and unable to break the fall, her forehead following. Scratched up and teary eyed, she ran to the teachers, and for the rest of the year Jeff had to be sat in a different class from her. Which greatly frustrated him. 

So yeah, he hated school, and it was very boring. 

Except for Mrs. Goelet, who he found vehemently entertaining. From her uncertain stuttering when the class wouldn’t listen, to her tired crow’s feet– he found her so entertaining.  

When the class would boisterously yell at her and ignore every reprimand, he would sit and listen intently. Watching her and her brown hair and long colourful skirts she would stride around in. He would stay after class and pester her with a million questions, knowing she was too reserved to call out his deceitful behavior.  

Yeah, that was his too, he decided.  

He shuffled through the halls, easily spotting his brother over the sparse sprinkling of peers. He walked right past him, red welts littering his calves with a stinging reminder of the previous night.  

Fucking brutal. His dad was a total sadist, holding both his brother and mom on a tight leash. If Jeff had it his way, he’d turn that wannabe into pig feed before the sun set. 

Even if he ignored Liu, he was glad it was him over his older brother. Liu would’ve sobbed all night, from either the pain or the humiliation.  

Instead, Jeff walked right out to the area behind the gymnasium, where the ass crack end of the school faced more thick shrubbery. Around this turn of weather, you could find all sorts of birds plastered along the bush floor, pecking at the worms that writhed to the surface.  

Jeff sat on a tree stump, beckoning a plump pigeon closer with a writhing insect held between his fingers. Pigeons were particularly trusting birds, Jeff had found, easily convinced by food. Sort of like pigs.  

The pigeon twitched its little face side to side, hopping closer. When it got close enough, Jeff lashed his arm out, spooking the bird. It frantically tried to flail from his clenched grip.   

During the struggle, Jeff heard a small snap, watching as it flopped to the ground. Flapping only with one wing now, broken. Damn. He sighed and stood, leaving the animal to scurry off into the thicket. It would adapt, pigeons were like that, but he didn’t want a pigeon that couldn’t fly. For his birthday he had asked for a birdhouse, but his father had laughed and called him a sissy for liking birds.  

Well, Jeff thought his dad was sissy for picking on his wife. So, he conceded to getting his own birds one way or another. However, they die easily from “stress”, Liu said.  

“You can’t keep it in a shoe box for fucks sake.” He had tossed the limp bird out their bedroom window, abandoned to the elements of nature below. He had discovered it after it began to smell foul, “You’re seriously too old for this shit.” 

Meandering about the woods, he kicked at the ground in boredom until a voice had interrupted his aimlessness.  

Multiple voices, approaching from the school. Jeff’s face twisted in recognition, jaw ticking. Randy, the only one whose name he bothered remembering because– compared to the others– he was the only one of any note.  

Inexplicably cruel in a way Jeff couldn’t emulate, kind of cool when he wasn’t slobbering over his words to spit them out in time. Randy, along with a group of others, emerged from between some trees, pausing when his eyes landed on Jeff. He smiled like he was fighting a laugh and tapped the pudgier boy on his left.  

“Does anyone else smell shit?” He approached, a crooked grin on his face. 

“Randell.” Jeff nodded back at him, not retreating as the foxy haired boy closed the distance between them.  

One of the girls was looking at Jeff, and he quickly recognized her as Mrs. Goelet’s daughter. They had the same nose and slender neck. He bit back a smile at her, but she simply looked at Randy apprehensively.  

Randy was smiling at him with his wolf-like and crooked teeth, “Why didn’t you invite me out here? Aren't we best friends?” The group behind him chuckled, passing glances at each other. Jeff didn’t get the joke. 

“I’ll let you know next time. Since you want to see me so bad.” He meant it as a dig, implications slathered in insult. But really, he meant it. Maybe one day he could show Randy his pig farm, then he’d know how bad pig shit really smelt.  

Randy grabbed him by the arm, forced joviality forgotten, tight lipped as he seethed out, “Who the fuck would want to go anywhere near you?” The group behind were looking on, hungrily, like a pack of hyenas waiting for their turn.  

Jeff was on the ground in seconds, legs buckling, Randy towering above him with clenched fists. Someone yelled something, a plea or sneer. He couldn't discern which among the cacophony of jeers and insults hurled at him.    

Randy leaned over Jeff's silhouette, spitting as he spoke, “Piss off, faggot!”  

Jeff stood back up, dusting himself off, shoulder checking Randy as he walked away. He passed that girl again, who kept her head down in shame as he stared at her. Reminded him of Liu.  

Jeff didn’t know who did it at first, but someone had kicked the back of his knee. Clad in dark baggy jeans they couldn’t see the still aggravated lesions beneath the fabric. Fiery pain undulated from the contact, sharp and unrelenting. 

On impulse, he struck, whipping around elbow first and a crunch echoed among the foliage. Writhing in the dirt, clutching his must-be broken nose as pained whimpers left him, was the large kid Randy had taped earlier.  

The kid—Troy, he discovered from Randy’s exclamation– was staring at him with a mixture of fear and anger.  

Jeff stared back, his elbow smeared with blood, fingers buzzing. His throat constricted with cold, insistent excitement. He was angry, sure, but this was something. Moments like this made the dull repetitive drawl of school worthwhile. 

A dull pain radiating up his torso snapped him out of his glare. A rock clattered to the ground beside him. He watched it skid to a halt in the dirt. Someone had thrown a rock at him. 

Whipping his head back up,  his eyes landed on a raw-boned skinhead kid with gritted teeth.  

He was all knees and elbows, holding another rock in hand, standing just behind Randy. The group of kids mirrored his savage expression, an array of disgust and hatred. Okay, Jeff soothed internally, you can’t take all of them.  

Searching for an escape, he landed on utilizing his coltish limbs to get the fuck out of there, back burning with the heat of Randy's glare. However, his concern likely outweighed his anger, Randy didn’t give chase. Still, he found ample opportunity to shout after Jeff. 

“You’re done Woods! You’re fucking done!”   

Jeff sprinted, overwhelmed with adrenaline, his chest tight with exertion. He ran all the way home, not stopping once.  

It was a trek. Normally, Liu drove them to and from school in his pickup. For as long as Jeff could remember anyway, Liu would often spiel on and on about how bad the commute was before he got his hands on the beat-up thing. Cold sweat trickling down his spine, he opted to avoid the leering wooden house with peeled paint and deck caved in on one side.  

Instead, he ran straight to the pig pen, ducking his head into the squealing solitude.  

Maymay had squirming piglets, which paused their suckling to stare at him restlessly, clutching closer to their indifferent mother. She was used to him. The consequence of being barred from slaughter meant the pigs didn’t fear him much.  

Their squealing died down, a whine and huff sounding from the back of the pen. His dog, roused from the commotion, stood lazily and inched closer to him with an eager tail. Jeff clutched the hound tightly, allowing him to fall asleep clutched in his grasp.  

He was shaking, he realized, his flesh humming from adrenaline. Unlike birds, people don't stop  after you crack them. The birds just hate you, and he doubted they’d come back if he left out feed. Chest twisting, he cried out in frustration, causing the dog to stir awake and lick his hand in appeasement.  

All this energy, all this want and need, and he had nowhere to put it.  

Liu didn't even fight him anymore, no matter what he said, as their father had forced him into fearful resignation long ago. Randy was something, though, something on the precipice he couldn't reach because they all huddled together like scared animals. It’s not like Randy couldn’t put up a good fight alone, so what’s with all the people?  

“Always, always.” He muttered into dusty fur, “It’s not fair, never goes my way!” His voice peaked, the welts on his legs painfully prevalent.  

The piglets squealed at his tantrum, only serving to further his frustration, jealousy curdling in his stomach. Piglets could do as they please, drink themselves stupid and scream without repercussions. Until their slaughter, which Jeff was denied the privilege of. One piglet, he took liberty with one piglet—he just wanted to know if they all sounded the same. Now, the slaughter stained him, and fuck his hands were still buzzing.  

He must have rocked back and forth in that pen for hours until a stocky figure ducked in alongside him. He sighed in defeat when he saw his brother. Liu hooked his fingers harshly through Jeffs shirt collar, dragging him out, murmuring that he stank. The sun was setting now, casting long, intimidating shadows from the tree line.  

His brother all but tossed him fully clothed into the shower, turning on the water that was always cold by the evening.  

Mud, sweat and feed melted from the persistent spray of water. Jeff shook fiercely as the stream soaked his hair over his face, staring down at the swirling stream of muck sinking into the drain. Jeff felt pulled toward that dark cavern, but his brother lifted him out. He always did, when Jeff strayed too far from the beaten path, it was Liu who corralled him back to normality. 

“Mom got a call from school.” Liu’s face was stern, “Was told to get you, been looking for hours.” 

Jeff hugged himself under the water, “I like the pen.” He shrugged. 

“Gross.” Liu chided, “Thought you grew out of that.”  

“I wanted my dog.” 

Liu rolled his eyes at that, exasperated, “Broken nose, Jeff. Family wants us to pay.” 

Jeff just snorted, making Liu raise his brows. He rolled his tongue under his bottom lip, visibly angry, and he threw his hands up, “Alright, fine. Y’know what? Keep being a freak with your fucking pigs and fucking dog.” 

He stomped away, and Jeff’s hand twitched after him. He should apologize, should take some responsibility, really, but he didn’t want to. He said nothing, and with his hand braced on the bathroom door, Liu turned one more time.  

“Jeff, I graduate at the end of the year. I want my own life. I won’t always be here to clean up your messes.” he slammed the door, leaving Jeff to clean himself up before supper. 

They didn’t speak to each other for a week, but to Jeff, it might as well have been months. In a way, Liu was right, Jeff’s perpetual boredom continuously led to him getting tangled in trouble. But it wasn’t his fault everything was so under stimulating, so predictable.  

Sitting in class, he tuned back in, catching himself staring at the neck of the girl in front of him. Mrs. Goelet’s daughter; he should really learn her name.  

She was taller than most girls, and Jeff noticed she slouched often. Maybe she was insecure over her height? Jeff never understood women’s insecurities.  

When his mother would pester him about her appearance, he was baffled.  

‘Do I look fat? Am I beautiful?’ she’d query with distant eyes as she would dress up for his father, desperate for Jeff's approval. He’d sit on the edge of his bed while she tried on outfit after outfit, awaiting his commentary with bated breath. The one time she’d asked Liu, he’d brushed her off, not interested in the plight of womanhood.  

Jeff, however, was honest...always. 

Even when the corners of her eyes crinkled in hurt at his remarks, Mrs. Woods always came to him.  

“I only ever wanted a girl...” she confessed in a drunken stupor one night, her clothes strewn about the bedroom floor and her makeup smeared haphazardly around her face. Immediately making a then seven-year-old Jeff promise to never tell a soul.  

She had wrapped her hair for the night taking her Valium with shaking hands, putting her flask back under the bedside table. Jeff never told; he liked knowing something about her no one else did.  

He concluded the girl's slouch was a silly insecurity, she would look much better standing tall. The line from the part of her hair to the nape of her neck was disrupted by the poor posture.  

At this point, it was bothering him. He flicked the loose lead of his pencil at her, causing her to whip around with a scorned look on her face that quickly softened to embarrassment upon seeing her assailant's identity. She smiled sheepishly and turned back around; Jeff threw the remainder of his pencil at her.  

“What?” She hissed in frustration.  

“Go with me?” 

Jane was pleasant like her mother, if not a carbon copy of her save her choice of dress. Often dressed in dark regalia with lace and smokey eyeliner. She followed him like a dog to the back of the gymnasium, fiddling with her thumbs, anticipating.  

She sat on the stump he was on last time he’d come out here, tucking her skirt beneath herself when Jeff pointed to it. She seemed to be waiting for something, as if she expected something from Jeff.  

In the awkward tension, she broke the silence, “I’m sorry about last time.”  

She spoke quickly, and when receiving no response beyond a quick look, she stuttered out, “I—its...I don’t like Randy.” She explained, shifting uncomfortably.  

Still, Jeff didn’t dignify her with a response, causing her words to spill out uncontrollably. “I don’t know why I hung out with him. I don’t anymore—I don't know, I thought he was cool. Clearly, he’s not, I mean he’s a bully and I know that now and,” She took a deep breath, “I’m sorry.” 

Before she could continue, Jeff decided it was his turn to speak.  

“Jane,” He stated plainly, “I know you’re a good girl.”  

That made her skin itch; however, she tried to ignore the feeling. Jeff couldn’t mean any harm; she knew he was a bit...different. His accent a mix of the local western drawl and Eastern European inflections, he often spoke in odd and, at times, disconcerting ways.  

Jane would chalk it up to cultural differences, as her mom always told her to be nice to everyone. Even if they seemed different.  

Because of her kind nature, she had been sat next to Randy for most of the year. The teachers assumed she would be a good influence on him. He was cruel, but popular somehow. So when she was invited to hang out with them at lunch, she accepted.  

Her morals reached a crossroads when the boy she was meant to help ended up attacking someone–Jeff– unprompted. Jane decided she preferred Jeff’s company. 

Jeff, who was now rustling around in the bushes, back turned to the girl. She awkwardly tucked her hair behind her ear, “Hey, Jeff...” She looked around the trees, the environment blending into an endless ocean of vegetation. The world felt hazy as alarm bells began ringing in her ears, “What are we doing out here?” 

He looked at her this time, halting his motion to smile toothily, “I want to show you something.”  

He whispered like it was a secret. Glee dancing in his tone as he returned to the rustling.  

He grabbed something from the bushes, causing Jane to lean forward in curiosity, brows knitted together. He covered most of it with his jumper, but the foul smell was pungent. Jane wrinkled her nose.  

She snarled a bit as Jeff approached closer, but her curiosity beckoned her to stay. As Jeff unfurled his arms, Janes face twisted into vile detest at what lay in his hands. Nausea roiled through her body in sickening waves at the sight. 

Bloated, leaking puss with cloudy eyes, was a deceased piglet Jeff cradled delicately. Its skin looked rubbery, dull, and for a moment, Jane tried to convince herself it was some disturbed art piece. But the smell was undeniable.  

The stench of death hung heavily in the air, smothering her. She gagged and then doubled over, dry heaving and sputtering out bile.  

Jeff stood motionless, watching her, unflinching. Jane looked up through her lashes at him, panting, but he just looked back at her with no change in his expression. Still holding the deceased pig. 

“God,” she sputtered, acid in her throat, “put it away! What’s wrong with you!” 

Jeff’s lips twitched with a laugh, “I did, I just took it back out.” 

“You’re fucking sick, stay away from me.” She rasped, eyes burning from the acidity in her throat, stumbling away from him in a hurry. 

His smile faltered for a moment, “They sound different.” 

“What?” 

“When they die, they all sound different.” 

Jane did not like Jeff anymore, and she went home early. Too afraid to tell anyone what she saw, telling her mom it was just a stomach bug.  

Jeff hopped into his brother's car with a fat smile on his face. Liu scoffed, refusing to break his vow of silence, and the two drove home wordlessly. The towns' structures became few and far between the closer they got to home.  

Liu rolled down the windows at some point, side eyeing his brother occasionally, nose crinkled in disgust. Jeff had his gaze transfixed on the open road, shifting in his seat restlessly. If the two were talking, Liu would surely question the sudden excitement oozing from Jeff.  

Jeff's enthusiasm remained through the duration of dinner, uncaring for the flies that landed periodically on the meat and beet soup. Popping the insects between his teeth as he chewed. 

It earned him a swift swipe to the back of the head as Mr. Woods walked past before seating himself at the head of the table. Their mother emerged from the kitchen with glassy eyes, placing a soft hand on his head. Soothing the dull ache, Jeff felt those nimble and familiar fingers in his wiry locks. 

Jeff gazed up at his mother, leaning into the touch. Liu, unable to take the lunacy of it all, stood suddenly from the table, his chair grinding against the wooden floor.  

“Boy!” His father corrected, “You sit until you’re excused!” Food and spittle fell from his mouth and onto the table, his fist striking the varnished wooden table with a bang.  

“I’m not hungry!” He retorted, already disappearing up the stairs.  

Mr. Woods looked to his son who was now boldly staring him down as his mother's hand slowly retreated from his dark hair.  

His eyes were wild, dancing across the room, practically vibrating as they did so. Almost taunting. 

For a moment, Mr. Woods just stared back, eyes narrowed. Then, in a swift motion, he stood, grappling for him with a manic, crazed snarl on his mouth. His chair clattered behind him, crashing into the floor with a bang. 

His mother retreated against the wall with labored breath, pupils dilated in anticipation. Watching the scene unfold with blown pupils.  

Jeff held his fork in a challenging grip, mimicking his father's threatening stance. He, too, was now shorter than Jeff, something that satisfied a dark part of the boy. To look down on his father in this matter, kindled that burning desire inside him. 

Mr. Woods shoved the table, plates shuddering and food scattering, but Jeff held his ground. Mr. Woods face was a dark shade of rage, the tips of his ears red, a feverish glint perspirating on his forehead.  

“You little fucker! You better run, you better get the fuck out of here!” He hollered, sloppily grabbing his plate and waving it wildly above his head.  

Jeff grabbed his own and, without hesitation, hurled it at the man, consequences be damned. It bounced off his abdomen and shattered onto the floor, covering the space between them in sharp, dirty shards.  

His mother found her voice, shrieking and pawing at the air around Jeff. 

“Oh no honey,” she wailed, “Oh no darling, stop it! Stop it!” 

Her glossy eyes shined, frantic but distant, examining Jeff but somehow unseeing. She held onto nothing, grasping at the air with shaking hands. 

Before his father could catch his breath, Jeff twisted on his heels and sprinted up the creaking steps.  

He hadn’t even touched the bedroom handle when Liu’s open palm shot out and dragged him into the room. Both brothers held the door shut as it bowed from the unrelenting fury of their father’s fist.  

Soon enough, the old man grew tired and yielded, sputtering after their mother who was still wailing from the halls.  

The brothers breathed together for a while, unsure if the tirade had finished just yet. Only when the distant moans and yells abjured, did they calm. Looking at one another for a moment, it was Liu who slowly rested his forehead against his brothers and closed his eyes. Drinking in the silence, the stillness. 

 Jeff spoke, impossibly quiet, “Are you still mad at me?” He sounded child-like. Liu chuckled breathily and then shook his head, separating the two. 

He held Jeff's shoulders in a solid grip and looked at him, “No, I stopped being mad a while ago.”  

Jeff smiled and nodded, falling into Liu's embrace. His broad hands caressed the back of Jeff’s hair. More grounding than the feathery touch of his mother, whose affection felt distant and held expectations.  

Jeff’s smile fell, “I killed a piglet again.” he confessed. 

“I know. It’s okay.”  

Life resumed to normalcy, if only their own obtuse version of it. Mr. Woods had stormed out of the house as early as he woke, fire in his wake, their mother might as well have been sedated by it. She stood over the sink, cleaning one of the pots for hours, the skin of her hands cracked and sappy. That became the new routine, a welcome change for the duo, who’d much rather deal with their mother’s uncanny dissonance than their father’s unbridled rage. 

School was also surprisingly normal. No one pulled Jeff aside for his little stunt with Goelet’s daughter.  

He was saddened to see her seat empty that week, and the week that followed. He stopped going to that class shortly after.  

Liu was overall better for it; he had made some friends in the absence of his brother, but there was always some kind of block.  

He had met a girl, a nice one from the church. He lied about still going, despite not attending since he was small, and she ate it up. The rest of her friends, though, were moody and confusing to him. He often resorted to silence as his default response. One of her friends had said he was “mysterious” which, to him, felt like “weird freak” in a prettier package.  

Despite this, they still invited Liu to a party. Apparently, it was one of the girl's birthdays or something. It was an open invite, too, so Liu had hoped to drag Jeff along. Lately, he had been spending more time with his dog than anyone else.  

Since the piglet incident, Jeff had even been avoiding the pen, Maymay squealing at him upon arrival with newfound fear.  

Their father, luckily, hadn’t noticed the missing one. That, or he assumed the runt died and was eaten by the other pigs. Jeff was particular with the piglet he chose, knowing which one wouldn’t be missed.  

Mr. Woods was sparsely in the home lately, residing in the pub during his waking hours. He left the slaughter business to abandon, which troubled Liu deeply. Their mother wasn’t much consolation, as she seemed to withdraw further each day, meals becoming more miserable as a result. Poorly paired flavors in favor of filling the family's bellies, food unwatched left to spoil.  

“Jeff.” The eldest stood at the door of their room, poking his head inside, “Come with me tonight.” 

Jeff was lounging on the rickety bed, arms outstretched and head lolled to the side. A cigarette hung lamely against his bottom lip; a magazine adorned with various scantily clad women in his grasp. 

“Why?” 

Liu shrugged, “Might be fun, get out the house and talk to people.” 

“Spare me,” he responded firmly, “that's sounds lame...” 

Liu shifted, “There’ll be girls?” he suggested, quirking a brow.  

At that, Jeff seemed to pause and consider his brother's words. Wordlessly, he stood and began to rifle through his closet, searching for something to wear. Liu released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and nodded at Jeff.  

“I’ll be downstairs.”  

The party was fine at best. Jeff was wearing his baggy white hoodie and some distressed jeans with his sneakers, whereas Liu bore an old wifebeater, jumper and his work jeans. Liu’s cross necklace caught the light when he fiddled with it between his fingers. The scent of smoke and beer carried through a backdrop of rainy weather that beat against the tin roof of the home.  

It was a quaint set up decorated with warm light, and people sprawled across all surfaces. Liu had quickly found the church girl, as foreign as her presence here seemed to be, and stuck by her for what felt like hours.  

Jeff disappeared somewhere into the smokey haze of the living room, muttering something under his breath Liu didn’t catch. Liu sipped on a cold beer that the church girl had presented to him on his arrival. She was blonde, with square shoulders and minimal makeup that allowed a dusting of moles and freckles to peek through. 

‘Real marriage material.’ his father would say upon seeing her full figure and long hair pulled into a ponytail. Liu concluded she was too nice to bring home if things continued.  

As far as he could tell, she was happy to see him, occasionally gripping his arms and chest as they talked. Feeling brave, he tucked a stray hair behind her ear and watched her cheeks flush pink. She smiled while batting her light lashes, pushing closer to him. His heart stuttered in his chest at the proximity. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask her to sneak off somewhere private but was interrupted. 

A loud crash broke the tension, both of them whipping their heads around to follow the sound.  

The chaos was blinding. Smoke obscured his vision, and after coughing and waving it away he could faintly see glass scattered on the ground and the living room table tipped on it’s side.  

The second thing he noticed were the jean clad legs that lay gangly on the ground with a foxy figure hovering above them.  

Jeff was slumped on his back, tossed over the tipped table, clutching his stomach with a wince. Randy balled his fists and leaned menacingly close to him, canines flashing. His brother was snarling viscously, his blue eyes catching the yellow light with pupils like pin pricks as they glared at Randy.  

The red head’s clenched knuckles were bloody and pink from impact, tainted by Jeff’s gushing nose. The blonde girl gasped in shock and clutched Liu’s arm, digging her fingertips in the flesh. But he shoved her off, almost blindly, making her stumble as she tried to catch her balance.   

Liu pushed through the anticipatory crowd that watched on in hungry fascination. They parted for him as he hurried to his brother's side. 

The scene became clearer as he approached. A pudgy boy with a crooked nose stood with a self-assured smirk next to a thin, pale kid who peeked behind Randy. All of them held his vengeful stare.  

Jeff didn’t break his gaze once, even when Liu’s legs entered his peripheral vision.  

“Got you, fucker.” Randy spit. 

“Yeah, you did, now get lost.” Liu retorted, posturing next to his brother. Jeff stood back up, nursing his bruises and brushing sparse glass from his now tattered hoodie. Randy looked at  Liu, crinkling his nose. 

“Holy shit,” the skinny kid started with a stupid smile, “two for one!”  

Randy glanced behind him, “Shut it, Kieth!” He turned back to face Liu, “No one was talking to you, hick.”  

He spat the last word with venom,  face scrunching with offense, as if the brunette's mere presence was a challenge to his ego.  

“Well,” Liu took a step forward, “I’m talking now. So, you can talk to me.” Jeff’s eyes flickered between the two, hands flexing as they hung by his thighs, ready for whatever came next.  

Randy laughed heartily, to which his little back up squad mimicked submissively. Without another word, Randy's fist shot forth, but Liu was an artful dodger to quick and violent hands.  

Avoiding the impact, he took the opportunity to jab Randy in his side with his elbow. He was winded from the assault; Liu by all accounts had a lot more force and power behind him. Easily crumpling the paper boy on his tower of cards, body like a strong wind that stole his breath.  

The two behind Randy looked taken aback for a moment, but the shrill scream of some girl in the crowd broke them out of it. Kieth went to comfort his friend, while Troy stood tall with a sharp inhale, a bead of sweat rolling over his nose and down his chin.  

Liu heard the crunching of glass into the carpeted ground as Jeff overtook his position now. Despite the hunch in his back, he was far taller than the fatter boy across from him. Jeff was like a serpent, coiled, dancing, swaying threateningly while staring the boy down. 

“Troy,” Jeff spoke with a grin etched into his face, “I’ll put it back into place for you.” He reached for Troys nose, hand hovering inches away from his face. The veiled threat sent the boy out the door, retreating before any conflict continued. Randy's jaw clenched at the spectacle, his eyes widening as he yelled after the boy.  

Randy straightened his back, “Fucking useless.”  

He tossed an expecting look at Kieth, who despite his stature, seemed far more capable of holding his own. Perhaps a product of false confidence.  

He attempted to rush Liu. Why he went for the stacked figure no one would understand. Liu, on reflex, knocked him in the jaw, shaking his fist at the lingering sting. Kieth was surprisingly durable however, and ate the hit with impressive resilience, brushing it off.  

He elected for a different method the second time around, gabbing one of the copious sharp objects on the ground and lunging for Liu, swinging in a frenzy. 

Liu raised his arms defensively, gritting his teeth when he was slashed across the forearm. It was deep, crimson running in hot rivulets down his arm. He hissed, knitting his brows, braced for another attack.  

He poised himself,  ready to snatch the makeshift weapon out of the scrawny fuckers' hands. Yet, the second attack never came. Instead, Liu gaped, watching as the attacker's eyes bulged out of his skull. He was hoisted inches off the ground by the material of his shirt. With a sharp smack, he was slammed into the shrapnel littering the ground. Jeff towering above the body beneath him now. 

Unfortunately, unlike Jeff’s thick hoodie, the boy had a singlet on, and Kieth yelped as he made contact with the rough debris, knees stinging furiously.  

Randy, who still had his hands placed protectively over his torso, took a step back. Liu was ready to utilize the moment of pause, muscles coiled and ready to spring.  

But before he could, his attention was drawn away by Jeff, who straddled a whimpering Keith on the ground with his teeth bared in an open grin. He released a series of unrelenting attacks upon his face, blood splattering across his sweatshirt, seeping deeply into the fabric. The white fibers of the hoodie congealed from the onslaught of dark liquid.  

The blows escalated from dull thuds to wet squelches of viscera. Liu was frozen in place, entranced by the horror, unable to get himself to move. When Jeff didn't relent even after Kieth had stopped twitching, the morbid entertainment at the conflict dissolved from the crowd, who began to protest in fear. 

“Holy shit, he’s gonna kill him!” Someone among the haze of faces exclaimed, dread and panic evident in their voice. The crowd started undulating in an agitated swarm, voices rising, manic.  

Finally, Liu’s feet were released from where they were planted against the floor. He cupped his brother under the arm and dragged him off the unmoving figure, tearing Jeff away as if he were a rabid animal.  

Keith laid as a bloody pulp on the ground, motionless. Randy was shuddering violently, hands  tugging at his hair in raw terror.  

Before the crowd could riot or process the boy's state, Liu stumbled away with Jeff, who was staring at the scene with a content smile. 

His fingers fumbled fruitlessly for his keys in his pocket, and he yelled for Jeff to get in the car, urgently, finally managing to grab his keys.  

Jeff was laughing, chest heaving with mirth, his lips curled in a heinous imitation of joy.  

Liu floored the gas, paranoia swirling in his gut with growing nausea and dread. He felt as though he were being suffocated, his throat constricting, unable to suck in enough air.  

Surely, surely the boy would get up? 

His face was unrecognizable after the attack, swollen and sputtering, gruesome. His fingers had twitched and gone limp at his side. Liu swallowed hard, shaking the thoughts away, banishing them. Periodically, Liu would glance at his brother in his peripherals. But for the entire ride home, Jeff's grin never faltered.  

In quiet moments, Liu could hear the muffled sounds of a snicker.  

The road was illuminated only by the pickup's headlights, hardly penetrating the smothering darkness. Which didn’t help Liu’s anxiety. If anyone was following them, the dark country roads wouldn't reveal it. Liu could only see right beyond the beams of light on the path in front of him, the surroundings a blackened inky sea, swirling nauseatingly. Liu’s knuckles whitened against the steering wheel. 

Liu ushered his brother inside, head wildly snapping back and forth. When the door shut behind them, Liu took his time peeking through the windows before pulling the blinds closed.  

When he was sure they hadn’t been followed, he gripped his hair with growing desperation, profanities tumbling from his mouth. He paced around the living room while Jeff sat on the couch sneaking looks at him through his bangs.  

He’d stopped smiling, finally, but the corners of his lips still twitched from the comedown of the high.  

Liu spun on his heels to face his brother, “What,” he accused, “is wrong with you? What the fuck is wrong with you?”  

His voice was shrill, but his brother remained infuriatingly impassive, shrugging and folding his  into his lap. His pupils were blown out, large like a feline zeroed in on a mouse, and his breath came in soft pants.  

He looked eerily calm, restrained.  

Liu's face flushed in frustration, “You could’ve killed him, Jeff! Oh God, he might already be dead...” Liu slid his back against the wall, crumpling into himself.  

Jeff’s face fell, “He’s not dead.” he spoke sternly, brows drawing together. 

“How do you know that?”  

“Because I could feel his breath!” At that response, Liu’s mouth hung open at the audacity.  

He wanted to snap back, to retort, but couldn’t find the words. It was a senseless justification; he might’ve been still alive when they left, but that many hits to the head didn’t bode well. Before Liu could muster a response, the silence of the night was broken by a bellowing bark and symphony of shrieks.  

The Pen.  

The pyrenees was going wild, snarls and barks so vicious you could hear the snapping of teeth colliding with one another.  

The brothers were quick to move, exchanging a wide eyed look, quickening their pace the closer they got to the chaos.  

As they crossed the field, drawing closer, the brothers became aware of twin lights in the distance, breaking the empty air darkness, illuminating the unseen insects and dust swirling in the air. The wails and barks were rabid, darkness engulfing the scene, shrouding it in the unknown.  

The boys heaved as they reached the pen, staggering to stand between the opening and the mystery car.  

The dog was positioned on his hind legs, corners of its mouth frothing with saliva. The rumbling engine of the car cut, and from the abyss emerged Randy, red hair illuminated by the light. Something hidden in his grip caught the light, glinting. 

The night air was swallowed by barking, the dog practically howling, teeth gnashing. 

Jeff and Liu stood  apprehensively, backs to the pen, eyes trained on the approaching Randy. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Randy seethed, lunging forward with a brandished pocket knife in hand.  

Liu instinctively grappled for Jeff, intending to push him out of the way. But Randy collapsed into the wet mud unceremoniously. A blood curdling scream pierced their ears, and Randy thrashed desperately in the mud, ankle firmly clamped between the dog's jaws. The dog swung its head wildly, saliva turning from a white foam into a deep red, meddling with the blood slowly soaking into the fabric of his socks.  

He continued to shriek, raising his knife high above his head, trying and failing to strike the beast down. The Pyrenees was a formidable opponent, though, and it lunged for the boy’s face. In the midst of trying to pry away the teeth that sunk into his supple flesh, Randy dropped the blade into the grass below. His arms flailed, fruitlessly trying to find purchase on the blade that was eaten by the soft earth and oppressive darkness.  

Jeff lunged forward, grabbing a handful of his dog's scruff, pulling flesh and muscle as he reeled back. Randy clutched the marred skin, blood gushing between his fingers. He writhed around the dirt in pain, screams turning into weak pants.  

“What in God’s name!” Mr. Woods was roused by the onslaught of echoing wails and was standing, gun in hand, lit up in the beams of Randy’s headlights.  

It didn’t take long for the ambulance to arrive, wheeling away a disoriented Randy on a stretcher. Jeff and Liu gave their statements to the police on the scene. Jeff's hands hadn't left the dog's bloody fur as the night unfolded, red and blue lights shimmering against the crimson splattered on the ground.  

The police deemed the incident an unfortunate result of trespassing by foolish kids.  

They both received a warning for the night, the knife attack being hearsay since Randy couldn't land a blow and no one could locate the weapon. It also helped that Troy had dogged his friends in, confessing teary eyed to his mother that he didn't want to be friends with them anymore. That, coupled with the nasty gash on Liu’s forearm, relieved the family of most consequence.  

Kieth was also fortunately still alive, already roused from unconsciousness in hospital. All things considered, the night concluded a lot better than anticipated. Rattled but safe, the family returned inside to forget about the night altogether, falling into restless slumber. 

For the next month, Randy’s father came to their door daily, threatening the family. Mr. Woods was the one to answer first, and had promptly slammed the door shut in the man's face. He would peer through the window, yelling belligerently, cursing the family for what they did to his son.  

“I’ll get you and that rotten mutt!” he had exclaimed repeatedly, vein popping in his forehead.  

Even when Randy got out of hospital, the abuse didn’t subside, with the father gathering his own extensive bloodline to stalk around the property provocatively.  

Jeff started sleeping in the pen again, feeling indebted to his loyal companion. He cooed over him and soothed him against the persistent heckling, hushing him when he would tense at the taunts. He slept, face pressed against his white coat, in case anyone dared to overstep that fence and be a vigilante.  

He would wake occasionally to the sound of rocks hitting the pen, once even stirring awake to the smell of meat thrown over the fence, hitting the dirt with a wet thump.  

Bait, Randy’s folks were attempting to bait his dog. He hugged that fur tighter every night.  

Liu and his father would take shifts sitting on the rocking chair on the old porch, shotgun at arm's length. Mrs. Woods would be seen sporadically peeking out the windows, paranoia drawing her face into tight lines.  

The tension wasn’t dying down anytime soon, so the brothers had no choice but to return to school and attempt to complete the year. Their peers had returned to avoiding the brothers like the plague, whispering accusations and poisonous rumors as they passed.  

One gloomy night, Jeff had returned home from a long day of school with Liu and headed back out to prepare some feed for the week. Like usual, he dropped his bag on the floor, kicking his sneakers off and stuffing his feet into the faded, mud-soaked wellies propped against the wall.  

He made way to the pen, eager to see his boy after a long day of boredom. Peeking his head into the entryway, he searched the room, bewildered when he didn't catch hide nor hair of his fluffy companion. The pigs oinked at him curiously with wide eyes. He pursed his lips. 

Ducking back out, he began checking along the outside, searching diligently for signs of life. However, his dog wasn't patrolling the perimeter, either.  

No bother, he could be off relieving himself, Jeff reasoned. Yet, a creeping sense of unease tangled in his chest. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he took a deep inhale of the chilly air. Using the lungful to project his voice, breath billowing around his face, he began to call for him. 

His feet planted into the sludge as he trudged around the property, a deep pit forming in his gut. The cold felt constricting the longer he was outside and fruitlessly searching, his cheeks stinging with its touch.  

After a good half hour of this, his breathing became increasingly ragged, mind racing with unfavorable conclusions. The sun crested the trees, casting a weak golden glow on the darkening fields. Empty. Jeff jogged back inside.  

Uncaring about the tracks of mud he left in his wake,  Jeff frantically searched the house. He practically turned it upside down, checking in places the big Pyrenees couldn't possibly fit. His movements were progressively more manic, calling to the dog every few moments.  

Maybe...maybe his dog came inside? Maybe his father let the dog indoors to avoid the assailants.  

Liu still wasn’t home yet, and Mr. Woods was seated in his recliner, reading the newspaper, oblivious to the world around him. Jeff paused his erratic searching to face his father. 

“Sir?” He cautioned, not wanting to set him off. Finding his dog was of paramount importance, and if that meant being civil with his father, so be it. Mr. Woods grunted in response, as if to say, ‘get on with it, boy.’ 

Jeff continued, forcefully casual, “Have you seen the dog today?” 

Mr. Woods licked his thumb, the crinkling of the paper deafening as he turned the page. 

“The dog?” Jeff encouraged, expecting an answer. 

Mr. Woods shook his head, “More trouble than it was worth, boy.”  

The air felt liquid, and time seemed to halt altogether. Jeff didn’t feel his limbs moving, nor did he notice the change in the weather when he went back outside.  

His mind felt slower than the world around him as the pen came into view. Shadows cast by the trees hung accusatory across the dirt path and Jeff's knees buckled as he collapsed into the wooden opening.  

He eyed the flattened earth, marked from years of heavy slumber from his precious mutt. He crawled along the ground, dirt packing into his nails and smearing along his knees. His throat was tight, he wasn't able to suck in enough air, his vision narrow. 

Some of the pigs waddled their fat bodies closer, curious, snorting the air around Jeff. He curled up into the depression in the ground, tucking his legs and arms close. Jeff hugged himself and wailed. Taken from him, it was all taken from him.  

His tether to humanity, the one thing beneath him he still found care for. Gone in one cruel action. 

He sobbed and wailed like a child until his body gave out.  

Liu found him that morning, tossing an old blanket over his shaking form. His lips were blue and the tips of his fingers and nose were bitten from the cold. Every shaky breath manifested in cloudy white puffs of air inches from his face. His eyes were open and bloodshot, staring blankly into nothing.  

Snot and tears were crusted dryly onto his face. Liu gazed on sympathetically; he managed to piece together what had happened. His warm hand fell onto his brother's shoulder, rubbing comforting circles along his arm.  

Jeff didn’t react to the contact, continuing to stare off into space, unseeing. Liu released his hold with a brief squeeze, dragging the hand down his own face.  

He was tired. Of all of it. He felt aged and ragged and had no resolve anymore, as if he had been thrown into the whirling depths of exhaustion and despair, unable to claw his way out. He looked at the pathetic mess of his sibling, who seemed so far away at his feet. It was the first time in a while that Liu felt taller than his brother. 

“One night.” He told him, “One more night you can stay here, and then I'm taking my brother back.”  

There was a small flicker of acknowledgement in Jeff’s cloudy vision and Liu left him like that.  

Tomorrow, he’d take his brother inside, clean him up, and scrounge together a way to get them both out of there.  

Their father had abandoned his duties as the breadwinner, recognizing that the brothers were getting too big to keep under his thumb and at his mercy. Jeff’s revolt had frightened him and the man for a moment, he recognised his wife in those wild eyes. 

He turned to the bottle, face perpetually red, speech slurred, and it wouldn’t be much longer before the money dried up. 

Mother had stopped cooking, wandering aimlessly in the halls of the house like a ghost. She was so disconnected from life, she might as well have already been dead.  At night, Liu would hear her nails raking along the walls, as if searching for something under the floral wallpaper. Her mind was far gone, maybe buried beneath the creaking wood of the floorboards. A distant memory of a mother haunted the home. 

When Liu prepped the feed the previous night, he found himself rationing it. The plumpness of the pigs would fade and they’d become skinny, unmarketable cuts of flesh. Discarded. 

Jeff, for all intents and purposes, was his only family left, and Liu refused to let the sickness of this home consume him too. They had a car, and they were both capable of work. Even if it meant scrubbing floors and living motel to motel, Liu would figure it out.  

He feared that any longer in this household would drive them both to lunacy.  

And on top of it all, his father had shot the dog. The dog that guarded his prized brood and kept the family fed. His father had shot it dead, and the town was still insatiable. Shadows from passing cars danced against the drawn blinds of the home, an ever-present warning. A promise. 

Yeah, Liu thought, they needed to get out of here.  

He’d allow his brother to mourn, say a final goodbye, and then Liu would drive them both as far away from the wretched home as possible. This bastardization of family, he would take it no more.  

Scrambling around their bedroom, the one they’d shared all their lives, he grabbed and stuffed whatever he thought essential into two large duffle bags he’d managed to drag out of the attic. He went over to his bed, gripping the metal frame, and he hauled it back Underneath was a floorboard that protruded outward like a waterlogged roof.  

Liu wrenched his calloused hands under the splintering wood and, with a ragged breath, pulled with all his strength to dislodge the panel from its position. Beneath the now open panel was stacks of cash Liu had spent the past year hiding from Mr. Woods.  

He had pried the panel open when he began collecting the cash, stashing it away. Any time his father questioned the missing money, he would deflect by reminding him of his wife's medication. 

It wasn’t a lot, but it would be enough for the two to survive until they figured out work.  

The biggest issue would be getting his brother hired, as they’d never had to get a job outside the farm before. And Jeff was never one for change.  

He stuffed the money deep under the clothing off the duffle bag, making sure it’d be hidden from drunken hands.  

Lui dragged the duffle bags down the stairs, placing them next to the door. Mr. Woods stared at him, bottle in hand, from the recliner he refused to move from.  

“Where the fuck do you think…think you’re going?” He slurred, barely making it through the sentence, drool seeping from the corner of his lip, eyes half lidded and glossy.  

Liu huffed as he looked at the pathetic man, “I’m taking Jeff and I away for the weekend. Until everything cools off.”  

Mr. Woods took his now empty bottle and hurled it at the floor. He sunk deeper into the recliner, disapproval painted across his features. It didn’t matter, though, because there was nothing he could do to stop Liu.  

A miserable acceptance settled over the room, like a thick fog of dissonance. A silence that held many unspoken words. Distantly, he could hear his mother's shuffling feet from upstairs. The air suddenly felt colder. 

Day melted into evening, which settled into night. Thick clouds shielded what little light the stars and moon provided in that isolated farm, and it had been a while since the fireflies had been around.  

Jeff still stared, open eyed, at nothing, limbs feeling too heavy to move. One of the piglets from Maymay’s litter had curled up near his feet, sniffing and oinking softly. He wondered if the pigs knew their protector was gone, if they missed him. He wondered if they were capable of such emotion; perhaps they only felt scared or uncertain. 

If they did, Jeff couldn’t tell either way.  

He felt thankful for the blanket draped over his body as a particularly cold gust of wind blew through the open entrance. It carried the smell of alcohol, strong enough to sting his nostrils.  

Ugh, must be his father.  

Jeff considered killing his dad; it’s not like his dad loved them anyway, and now he had a great reason to kill the man. Not to mention, Jeff knew the pigs would grow hungry soon, judging by the looks of the feed. They’d eat anything but teeth if need be.  

The dried spittle on his chin cracked as a wheezed breath escaped him, almost a laugh. He waited for his father to stumble through the door, and Jeff would strangle him right there with the blanket—leaving him to the swine.  

He started to shake, limbs tingling awake, and the strange stench grew stronger, breaking through the smell of livestock. As Jeff propped himself up on his elbows, he froze, hearing hushed whispers. 

For a moment, he thought the dehydration and lack of sleep was making him delirious, but the voices were unmistakable. Jeff pressed his good ear against the wooden wall, shushing the concerned snorts of the swine. 

Maymay peered at him wearily and everything suddenly went quiet. Even the crickets and rustling from the wind stilled.  Pressing further into the wall, Jeff heard a faint click and one distinct sentence. 

“Light this fucker up.” 

White hot flames roared to life, climbing along the wooden shed, kissing the roof before Jeff could even comprehend what was happening. All-consuming heat engulfed the shed, ignited in red and orange, black smoke choking the oxygen. The swine began running around in a flurried panic, squealing.  

It was burning, everything was burning. They screeched and tried to dart for the opening, but the unkempt wooden panels quickly collapsed inward, blocking all those present inside the indiscriminate hungry fire.  

The heat was unbearable now, licking at his flesh, singing his hair, suffocating his lungs. 

Just beyond the sound of wailing meat and hungry flames was the sound of jeers and laughter. Illuminated in red were two figures; a plump boy and a redhead. Jeff finally found his voice and he screamed his throat raw. His shirt had caught, and he could feel the fire dangerously close to the skin beneath, biting it.  

One of the pigs was alight already, spreading the flame further in its panic, running in fruitless circles, the smell of burning flesh clogging the smoke. Jeff tried to scream again, but the smoke suffocated him, scorching his lungs. He sputtered and hacked onto the ground, saliva black with soot, vision spinning.  

As more pigs collapsed, he found his voice one last time, his hysterical cry breaking through the overbearing noise of burning swine.  

Liu’s eyes cracked open, wincing at the light which penetrated through the cracks of the window. He groaned, digging his thumb and forefinger into his eyelids.  

He stood, stretching his stiff muscles, yawning  

“What is going on?” he murmured, confused.  

One eye closed, he peeked through the glowing crack of the window. For a moment, he couldn’t make sense of the scene in front of him. But when reality sunk in, he was rushing down the stairs, stumbling.  

Feet heavy, he burst out the door quicker than the locks could bear, leaving them to swing from marred hickory. His parents were stirred by the commotion, chasing after him while shouting. 

“What’s wrong with you? Boy!” Mr. Woods slurred, words dying in his throat as his eyes landed on the flames flickering in the distance.  

Suffocating, thickened ash filled the air, scents of flesh singing nostrils and howls of agony echoing.  

The pen was devoured by flames, the height of it kissing the willowy trees that hung above. Randy and Troy stood just outside the flames’ reach, faces alight with horror at the sight before them.  

Without thought, Liu tackled Randy to the ground, knocking the lighter out of his hand. He grappled his wrists, vaguely aware of his father collapsing to his knees beside him.  

“It’s gone, it’s all gone!” Mr. Woods yelled, catching the smoke in his throat, coughing.  

On cue, the roof of the pen caved in, igniting the fire anew and releasing the trapped screams inside. Some of the pigs, burning, escaped the flames and ran. None made it far, legs failing as they dropped, bodies giving out. Their skin was blackened and raw, layers of flesh and fat exposed to the cold air, eyes melted from their skulls.  

Liu grabbed Randy by the collar of his shirt, shaking him in his tight grip, “What did you do? What the fuck did you do?”  

His voice broke as his eyes became wet ,not realizing he was crying until a tear landed squarely on Randy’s face. Randy's hands were trembling, mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish as he tried to find an excuse.  

Troy was still standing, awe struck at the flames, eyes reflecting the carnage. The squeals were dying out as seconds dragged on to minutes. 

Randy sounded like his age for once, naive and afraid, stuttering out, “We-we didn’t… we didn't know.” He shook his head frantically, “We thought it was pigs! Just pigs!” 

His words fell on deaf ears, hands releasing their grip on the collar to find the exposed throat of the fox below him. Randy quickly grasped his wrists in a weakened grip, pleading.  

Mrs. Woods approached the flames still clad in her nightdress. Her eyes were glossy, fogged with familiar distance.  

Horrified understanding trembled across her face in one fleeting sweep. She reached a hand up, concerningly close to the threshold beyond safety, twitching. Mr. Woods motioned to corral his distant wife, but paused when he noticed the now raised hand of Troy. Finger outstretched, his hand quivered as he pointed to the gulf of the fire.  

Mrs. Woods muttered, “My baby, my little girl?” Liu released his grip on the throat below him, following the line of hands into the center of the fire.  

Emerging from the flames was a figure, silhouette undeniable as it passed over the fallen structure. Feet pushing aside corpses and charred wooden planks, walking like a fresh babe without motor function.  

“Jeff?” Liu pleaded, moving closer.  

Jeff stepped forth from the flame, following the call blindly.  

For a brief moment, he seemed to smile at his brother. It was so brief, it could have been a simple trick of light. Maybe it was a mirage, created in the recesses of Liu’s mind, and maybe none of that mattered anymore.  

Before his brother’s eyes, under the smoke obscured stars and glossy gazes, Jeff collapsed to the sullen earth, and died.  

The smell of burnt livestock and feces radiated over the distant town, and in some indiscernible amount of time, sirens could be heard approaching the now settling flames. The wet earth and torrential weather were desperately welcomed to cull the manifesting death.  

Whatever money Liu had managed to scrounge up over the years had gone to setting up Jeff’s post-surgery home care. It had been several months of inpatient medical treatment and various operations to get him prepared for the return home.  

He was adorned in both compression garments and gauze, leaving his face and mouth concealed. His hands and legs remained mostly unharmed; covered in wet earth, the flames had left only first-degree burns to redden the skin. 

The rest of his body, however, was littered with both second and third-degree scarring. The taunt skin snaked around his torso in contracture stripes, occasionally making an appearance when the gauze shifted.  

The laundry list of medications and wound care the medical team had given Liu was hard to understand, the length of some of the words far surpassing his own vocabulary.  

But the fire had eaten more than just his flesh; it consumed the hearing from one ear and half the sight in his right eye, and four of his toes had to be amputated.   

He needed help to even walk to the bathroom.  

All of that was fine, though. Liu could handle it for his little brother.  

What had been bothering him the most, waking him from the ever-present nightmares, was the idea of changing the dressings.  

None of the family had seen Jeff’s face since that night.  

Their father was halfway in the grave himself, drinking so heavily he spent more time asleep than awake, alcohol always within grasp. Mrs. Woods would only leave barely edible meals outside the brother's room, and if it weren't for those plates, Liu could convince himself she had disappeared altogether. She was a ghost, swept away in the wind, shuffling feet absent. Haunting the house; present, but on a different plane.  

Therefore, Jeff’s care was left to Liu, who took on the responsibility without complaint. 

Liu sat on a chair across from the bandaged figure sleeping on the wireframe bed. The figure's chest was heaving deeply, small puffs of air escaping his open mouth.  

Liu’s hands were clasped in front of his face, brows drawn together. He felt conflicted, finding himself at a crossroad of emotion.  

He was surprised, happy, and horrified that his brother had survived. 

He wondered if his relief was selfish in nature, if his relief stemmed from fear of having to grieve his loved one, unable to imagine letting go. He wondered if, perhaps, it would have been for the best if Jeff had died that night, unceremoniously among the swine he spent the most time with.  

He knew the pain must’ve been unbearable, even with the concoction of sedatives and painkillers constantly running through his veins. From the fitful twitching, to the clammy appearance on the minimally exposed skin, it was sickeningly clear to Liu that Jeff was in pain.  

He wondered what was going through Jeff’s mind, if he was cognitive of his fate, and what that meant for his psyche. How had Jeff felt in that pen? Did he wake to the fire and smoke in a panic, scrambling for salvation with the pigs?  

It was hard for Liu to picture his brother, so wickedly self-assured and unfazed by the world, being stricken with panic and agony. Subordinate to the flames, fire, light, and consumption.  

Realising he was trapped, that this was the end. 

Except it hadn’t been, and now he was trapped once again, this time in the confines of his own scorched flesh and gauze holding him together. Liu’s brother, so dependent now, so incapable, any spark of rebellion and acidity stripped against his own volition. How could he possibly be feeling, if he felt at all? 

Liu placed a tender hand on the blanket sitting against Jeff’s chest, feeling the muscles twitch upon contact. He reached forth to cup the gauze wrapped around his face, watching his lips strain, breathing becoming more ragged. Carefully removing the metal clips to avoid furthering his discomfort, he peeled, revealing the carnage layer by layer.  

As he approached the last of the gauze, Liu's hand trembled. He withdrew, trying to shake his discomfort and gather himself.  

He reasoned internally, reminding himself that he needed to do this for him, that he wasn't the one suffering here. Against any mounting anxiety, Liu finished undressing his brother’s face. 

He was unrecognizable. A stranger laying in the spot he could have sworn Jeff occupied moments earlier.  

His skin was patchy with burst blisters, blooming primarily on the right side of his face, crawling down his neck and jaw in red spirals.  

The irritated, pink flesh looked painful, although the nurses had informed Liu that the second to third-degree burns meant extensive nerve damage and the silver lining was minimal pain.  

Where his nose once situated, there was nothing but the taut sheen of the skin graft with two dark caverns for nostrils. Reconstructive efforts had done their best to restore Jeff’s appearance, but the muscle and cartilage was too far gone, prioritizing function over aesthetics at that point. 

His right ear was flat to the side of his face, the remaining skin of the area a scaley scar with a rough surface.  

The parts of his hair that remained were short and unkempt from his hospital stay, a large chunk from his hairline recessed, presumably never to grow back.  

The eyes that gazed up at Liu were wide and unblinking, bloodshot and partially cloudy on the right side, looking past his brother. For a moment, Liu saw his brother lying in that pen the morning before, gazing distantly in mourning, and guilt settled in the eldest heart.  

If he had dragged his brother inside, wrenching him from his wallowing the morning he found him, none of this would have happened. If he had stopped his father from killing the dog, from putting a bullet in the one thing Jeff truly loved, or if he grew a spine and stood up to the man like Jeff always wanted, this could’ve all been avoided.  

But it wasn’t, and now Liu had to take responsibility for this, for his brother, for his only family.  

He was waiting for that feeling of recognition, that bond of familiarity to warm inside him. 

But there was nothing.  

The body before him felt and looked like a complete stranger; uncharted territory.  

Pushing aside the rising emotion in his chest, Liu started unwrapping the rest of the layers, revealing more burn, more red.  

He redressed the wounds hastily, eyes stinging, trying his best to maintain gentleness in his movements. He stepped back, examining the silhouette before him, swallowing the consequences of his compliance as he forced himself to look. To really look at his brother– or, at least, what was left. He turned away, unable to bear it much longer.  

He grabbed his brother's medication, washing it down his throat to minimal resistance apart from some breathy whines, ringing and reverberating through Liu's ears like a sick chime.   

Liu slumped back into the chair, throat closing up, vision blurring. His head fell into his hands and he cried. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks in fat droplets. 

His brother had died. How could he not be dead? He saw him collapse! He witnessed his brother's soul evaporating from his singed flesh, intertwining with the black smoke rising into the night sky, away from Earth, to elsewhere. 

He was mourning a man that was right in front of him and had no one to turn to.  

He was living with a corpse. The corpse of someone he loved, taunting him with wheezing breaths and unseeing eyes. 

That was how life was for months. Months that passed aqueously and seemed to slip through his fingers. A nonconsensual ravaging of his life that became total destruction of his autonomy.  

Liu’s life was consumed by caring for his brother, his parents offering no relief, choosing to retreat into their own vices. If anything, they only added to the oppressive environment, sucking the life from Liu's veins.  

All the while, Liu waited, desperately clinging to the idea of his brother, who felt more like a concept than a tangible form or person, in no way reflective of the body on the bed. 

There was nothing, nothing in those countless moments Liu spent tending to the body that was once his brother's.  

He didn't emit that familiar warmth, no longer exhibiting those quirks and features in his small movements. The earthy, laborious odor of the farm Jeff used to wear gave way to the sterile smell of bacitracin and gauze. 

Jeff never uttered a word, which was perhaps the hardest part of it all. All he did was stare off into the distance, eyes dull and lifeless, reflecting Liu's gaze back at him. Sometimes, Liu imagined that he could see an accusing tinge to his stare, as if condemning Liu. 

When he wasn't caring for the body, Liu was manically scrubbing at every surface he could reach, the house seemingly in a perpetual state of filth despite his efforts.  

The fire had left foul smelling soot that clung to one's nostrils far after it dissipated. Liu found himself cleaning the home multiple times a day, especially in the kitchen, where the open window had welcomed the filth inside.  

Scrubbing dutifully, he was lost in his own world. He was like that for a while, until his thoughts were interrupted by a disturbance upstairs.  

At first, he convinced himself it was his mother, shuffling aimlessly. But that explanation didn't last long when he heard the distinct sound of metal scraping against wood.  

Dropping the dusty rag, he trotted up the stairs, bewildered. Had Jeff gotten up? Was he moving? Did he need something, was he himself again? His heart was thrumming faster against his chest, anticipatory, hoping against all hope. 

Liu softly pried the door open, careful to avoid spooking the figure inside.  

His narrow vision from the crack in the door only allowed him to see to the corner of the room. Slowly, working from the ground up, Liu's eyes traced the figure occupying the space, his focus a sharp pinpoint. Standing there, murmurming indecipherable words, was Jeff.  

Tufts of black hair sneaked from the dressings, his exposed legs pink and blistered, quivering with disuse. The rhythm of his muttering was erratic and soft, as if he were arguing with himself.  

Liu risked cracking the door further, concerned, paranoia biting along his vertebrae. 

“Jeff?” He inquired gently, voice low. As if on cue, a large slam shook the ground behind him, tearing his attention away, the hairs on the back of his neck raising with alarm.  

When he snapped his gaze back to Jeff, his eyes practically vibrated in their sockets. Beneath the blankets, a sleeping figure laid with zero indication of movement.  

“What...what?” Liu wheezed to no one in particular, suddenly winded. He squeezed his eyes shut and closed the door again. Liu stood in the empty hall, beside himself, deciding he needed to get more sleep. He casted one last glance behind him as he trudged away, a small part of him expecting to see a clouded eye staring back at him. 

The second time an incident similar took place, Liu had been asleep. It was his sense of smell that twitched him awake, his nostrils burning. A strong odor of smoke wafted through the bedroom, parallel to the room Jeff's body occupied. He faced away from the open door, back exposed. 

Fitfully, he turned around, noticing a discarded blanket strewn across the other room's floor. The bed was vacant.  

Anxiety nipping at his heels, Liu stood, heading for the toilet, assuming Jeff would be there. He froze in place when something from the window caught in his peripherals.  

He turned slowly, neck tingling. The window perfectly framed the remains of the pig pen in its center, which was nothing but a pile of charred wood and discarded life.  

Standing still, staring at the pile, was a skinny silhouette, outlined with unwinding gauze. Liu’s gaze was only broken when it whipped its head to stare right back.  

Frightened, Liu ducked out of sight, heart in his throat as he rushed down the stairs.  

It was cold out, his brother must be delirious. Must be having some kind of night terror, or must be lost.  

Upon opening the front door, Liu found the darkness of night absent. Golden, hot sun beamed down from above, glittering and sweltering, as if someone flipped a switch on the time of day.  Liu's chest felt tight, vision blotted out from the abrupt change of environment. His stomach flipped and nausea threatened to crawl up his throat. What the fuck was happening? Was this some kind of nightmare? 

When his vision returned, Liu caught no sight of his brother. His breath stuttered, taking in the sight of pure daylight, entire body shaking despite the heat. 

Liu fought his instincts and decided to check out the glowing pen that was practically a beacon beneath the rays of sunlight. He could feel a strange allure to it, as if he were drawn to the area, even when every hair on his body begged him to turn away.   

He felt the heavy weight of eyes burning into his back as he wandered further from the home, and he glanced back, sight trailing up to their bedroom window. He discovered the curtains had been drawn closed, a flicker of movement from inside catching his attention.  

He dashed back inside, the soles of his feet slipping in the warm mud, sweat trickling down his jaw. He staggered up the steps, leaving the glaring light of day and the alluring pig pen behind. 

“Jeff!” Liu called out, panicked, voice strangled.. What the fuck was going on? He shoved the door open, panting. 

All that greeted him was the body tucked into the bed, chest rising and falling softly to the sound of crickets. Moonlight casted upon the white sheets, bathing the room in silver light. 

After that, Liu’s sleep was on rapid decline. Often, he’d find himself crawling into bed, fighting the waking world, desperate for slumber, only to suddenly be met by daylight streaming in the window.  

It felt as if only moments had passed, as if he had slept without realizing. Liu didn’t feel as if he’d slept a wink. 

 However, more pressing matters smothered his attention. There were two figures he always found himself chasing; the absent body in the bed, and the figure roaming the halls maniacally.  

Sounds and scents haunted him, and at one point he frantically searched the halls for hours, convinced he heard the sound of a plump hog’s hooves clicking against the wooden floor. He wasn’t even quite sure what he’d do with the pig if he found it.  

Having caught himself nearly mixing his mothers and Jeff’s medication one night, Liu opted to go to bed early, hoping to sleep off whatever was afflicting him.  

He rationalized that this feverish nightmare could be insomnia or an affliction, potentially a combination of the two.  

Liu decided he would ignore the night’s assault on his senses unless he was sure it was necessary to address. He fed the pain medication to Jeff and then promptly collapsed into his own bed, wrinkling the sheets with a tight grip, “Goodnight, Jeff.” His voice was weary, but he willed himself to lay his head down and close his eyes.  

Unbearable pressure on his chest. Suffocating weight grappling his lungs with an iron fist, strangling him. He woke with a start, vision a blur as he attempted to shove the assailant off of him.  

He struggled to make sense of what was happening, panicked.  

A figure towered above him, dark shadows cast along its features. Loose bandages hung haphazardly by Liu's face, brushing his cheek, exposing only a mouth. 

 Sleep and panicked confusion still holding him in its grip, Liu croaked out, “Jeff?”  

A sharp pain twisted in the center of his chest, radiating in throbbing waves of heat and static.Eyes widening, Liu’s gaze left his brother, catching the glint of silver bathed in the moonlight.  

He glanced down, chest heaving, the seams of the gash vibrating. Sticky crimson coated his torso, spreading, dark and rapid. 

Was he bleeding? Was he dying? Jeff, did Jeff do this—no, surely not his brother?  

The figure above him cracked open its mouth and smiled madly, his brother’s voice fanning across his face, echoing in the empty walls of the bedroom. It let out a long, moaning hush, shushing the figure beneath it. 

“Go to sleep...” 

Liu woke with a start, gasping for air as he sat upright, clutching his chest, pupils dilated like a wild animal. He whipped his head around, disoriented. He wasn’t in his bed, instead in his father's recliner. He couldn’t recall moving downstairs, but at this point, he didn’t care to know. 

Liu felt...good. Really good. Despite the anxious beating of his heart he felt awake for the first time in a long time. 

He settled into the recliner, his racing heart calming, relief like a wave in the depths of his bones. It must have been a nightmare, he concluded, considering the lack of blood and his seemingly unharmed body.  

With a spring in his step, Liu walked to the bathroom, intending to feel alive again. He splashed cold water on his face to wake his skin, feeling it tingle upon contact.  

He leaned down to repeat the motion, suddenly hissing in pain and grasping the counter for balance. Sharp pain radiated from his abdomen.  

Gritting his teeth, Liu lifted his shirt, jaw slack when his eyes landed on a large slash along his torso, stretching from under his left nipple down to his right hip in a pink, fresh cut.  

It wasn’t bleeding, oddly enough, and looked cleanly patched up. 

“The fuck?” Liu muttered, running a finger lightly over the wound, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth at the sting. He racked his brain at the sight, returning to the nightmare from before.  

Surely, his brother hadn’t attacked him? He could barely stand, let alone wield a knife and hold him down. 

Liu was standing outside the duo’s bedroom door. Jeff would need his medication soon enough. Something in Liu’s head was telling him not to. Telling him to turn away, stirring a deep feeling of primal instinct in his gut. Was that body behind the door his brother? Was that catatonic corpse, so unresponsive, really Jeff?  

Those nightmares and allusions of the figure often felt more real than what was objectively the reality.  

Was it so mad to think his brother was capable of such harm?  

Jeff, who had been consumed by the fire and had smiled, smiled right at Liu.  

Jeff, who killed the piglets he coveted and took glee in fathers' self-destruction.  

Was it presumptuous of him to assume his brother–surely not in his right mind–was incapable of turning his anger on his brother?  

Liu was reminded of all their childish squabbles in this home, the busted lips and blackened eyes. None of that could be seen in the corpse lying on that bed. He had to be sure, though, and so he opened the door with a deafening creak. 

The room was shrouded in darkness and the body lay placid, barely breathing on the wireframe bed.  

The world shifted as he stepped forward, “You don’t talk anymore.” He accused. “You don’t even look at me when I change the dressings.”  

Fitfully, the figure twitched at the words. Liu scoffed, scornfully, “How can you be my brother?”  

He pressed further and gripped the bandaged face with none of the gentleness he had subjected it to prior.  

The bandages moved, pushing the flesh beneath which cringed upon contact. Liu’s fingers found the corner of the figure’s mouth and pulled—forcing the mouth into an open lipped smile, stomach turning with revulsion.  

The body fought the assault, soft breath turning into pained whimpers, trying to shift its head from the hold. Liu dropped his hand back to his side, leaving the body alone for now. “Yeah,” he realised, “You are definitely not my brother.”  

He could see clearly, could see the fingers on his hands and the shoes on his feet. Liu’s eyes did not lie, he saw his brother die in that fire and whoever that was couldn’t be him.  

It smelt like death, whatever it was, with rotten soiled flesh leaking fluids into the mattress. He saw that open cavernous nose, a nose that could only be the product of decay. No one could survive what his brother went through. No one.  

This thing was within his brother's corpse, wearing Jeff’s skull and forcing Liu to suffer more. To tend hand and foot to a sibling who should be buried. His brother’s body couldn’t rest, was kept perpetually suffering and without the capability to end it himself. For why? What purpose? Liu gingerly touched his shirt over that laceration on his chest.  

Liu would allow this exploitation no longer.  

He left the room, pushing the door open, but he was met with resistance on the other end. Confused, he tried again, this time the resistance giving way to the sight of his mother on the other side.  

Her face was colourless, lips parted slightly. She lifted her hands up to cup her son's face, stroking lightly. Her appearance was offensive, with hair matted into a thick mass and a nightdress stained with urine, blood, and saliva.  

She smelt like she looked, rancid, as if she hadn't washed in months, and the hands that stroked Liu’s face felt grainy.  

She whimpered as she spoke, teeth coated in plaque, rotted breath wafting over his face,“You’re a good brother.” That was all the reassurance he needed. His heart swelled with her approval; his mother had finally seen him. 

Liu lifted his hands to clasp her wrists and led the woman down the hall back to her room, weary. He could barely comprehend the disarray of the master bedroom. A hoarder's hull now, it smelt like a septic tank and had incoherent sprawling's littered on the walls. 

He had nothing to say to this, knowing the woman was beyond reason, and having more urgent matters to attend simply made it hard to care. He simply lay his mother down and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. She closed her sunken eyes, the sharpness of her cheekbones unnatural and jagged, and she smiled softly. 

For a moment, that youthful, maternal glow returned to her features and then she was gone. Liu's breath caught in his throat. 

Liu shut the door behind him, glancing at Mr. Woods, who sat in his recliner that faced the window next to the front door. His reflection was wavey and indiscernible, but he was undeniably awake—bottles littered the wooden floor around him. Liu ignored the man, heading for the tool storage by the garage entry door.  

He could feel the peripheral gaze of his father, continuing to pretend it away. His hands gripped the rusted handle of the shovel, feeling the weight of it, deep green paint chipping off the handle. Liu jiggled the door handle, which had gone stiff from the bitter cold outside. 

“And what are you doing, boy?” Mr. Woods spoke, not moving his head from its locked position, bloodshot eyes trained ahead.  

Liu continued to pull at the handle, “What are you planning now?” Mr. Woods’ voice was croaky and raw, yet still held its stern an unwavering command over his son.  

Liu paused for only a moment, a residual habit formed from fear of his authority, and then he began yanking on the handle roughly. The elder man in the recliner began to laugh, a deep rumbling sound that came from his stomach, guttural.  

He rose from his chair, revealing a cigarette on his lips that glimmered in the smoke. In his right hand a half empty bottle and in his left a lighter, his thumb grazing the switch threateningly.  

Liu felt sweat bead on his brow, and he began slamming his shoulder into the door in a frantic attempt to dislodge it.  

Mr. Woods began to ramble, “What are you, boy? So fearful of the now, you haven’t noticed it’s all gone to guts already! We’re all dead, all dead!” He laughed again, uncontrolled, manic, “What do you fear? It’s all happened already, boy! And you...did...nothing!”  

Click. Click-click. 

 The flame flickered from the lighter, and Mr. Woods grinned as he poured the bottle down his shirt. Horrified, Liu watched in stunned silence as his father self-immolated, catching the hem of his shirt with the flame. 

Engulfed by sputtering fire, he collapsed back into the recliner, igniting the remainder of the fluid along the ground and spreading the flame.  

He slathered his skin as he burned, laughing choked and wild and raw. His flesh sloughed off from his abrasive kneading, revealing the layers of raw skin, muscle, and viscera beneath. He gargled and screamed in agony, writhing in the burning recliner, succumbing to the flames of his own creation. 

Liu screamed, the smell of burning flesh clogging his nose and stinging his eyes. Gasping for air, he grabbed the shovel, wedging the metal in between the door and the wall. He heaved, cracking it open, slamming his shoulder into the heel of the shovel. The door finally gave way with a wicked force, shuddering on its hinges. 

Liu fell through the door in his desperate scramble to escape, gagging on the taste of his fathers flesh. He landed on a strange, lumpy heap, cold wetness seeping into his clothes.  

He recoiled from the feeling, eyes falling onto the body of a Great Pyrenees underneath him, head blown open and smeared against the porch from the door's force. 

Liu staggered to his feet, retching and covered in viscera, clutching the shovel like a shield. He ran. He ran far from the house.  

He only looked back once. 

The dog's head was a crimson smudge on the porch, orange light flickering from the open door and glistening the gore beneath it.  

The surrounding forest was like a siren, luring him deeper and deeper, singing to him, a lullaby and a promise.  

Blanketed in the darkness of the thick trees, light struggled to penetrate, time ceasing to exist. Liu fell upon a patch of bare earth, a patch of earth seemingly untouched by nature and human life alike and he knew it must be here.  

He knew it in the depths of his stirring soul. 

He began to dig. And dig. And dig. A large hole slowly broke through the untouched earth, wider and wider with every desperate shovel.  

Night and day passively turned into each other in what felt like an endless tango. A loveless entanglement that Liu felt, a grueling dedication to his atonement.  

This was his final reprieve and the only way out now.  

Stepping back and dropping the shovel to the soil, Liu gazed down at the pit before him. Deep, open and welcoming, an earthy grave revealed itself to him.  

It was perfect, the most perfect thing he’d ever done. It might as well have been the only thing he had ever done, the only accomplishment of his life. 

Liu followed the scent of flesh back into the home, passing the charred corpse which lay in the recliner, bottle in hand, facing the window. 

He trudged up the stairs, arms shaking with exertion, and opened his bedroom door, discovering it was empty. Void. 

Panicked, he gripped the filthy shovel in hand, knuckles white. A distant cry. He paused, listening intently. The sound repeated. 

It sounded like his mother.  

He followed the noise, softly stepping along the wooden floor to minimize the creaking it produced, cautious of what waited ahead, wielding his shovel like a weapon. 

As he drew closer, the sniveling transformed into rampant wailing, punctuated by fits of laughter. The sound was uncontrolled and painful, as if forced upon its inhabitant. The high pitched peals of laughter, so reminiscent of his mothers, then deepened into something guttural and gravelly, morphing and twisting. 

No longer did Liu hear his mother. In her place, he heard his father.  

Yet it was wrong, manipulated and bastardized as it echoed down the hall.  

Then it was him, his own voice echoing back at him in a foul mockery.  

He wanted to stop, to run away and never come back, urgency burning in his chest and begging him to run for his fucking life,but he found he just couldn’t.  

This was his monster, a monster that was the culmination of every time he turned away, and it held his brother with ferocity, gnashing its teeth and howling.  

For as long as it lived, they’d never be free.  

Closer now, the upstairs bathroom door creaked on its hinges, open. The cold, clinical light inside illuminated the dark hall. Liu inched forward, breath coming in short gasps.  

 A dark shape stood under the fluorescent light, bandages forgotten on the ground in a dirty, stained pile. Liu looked at its reflection in the mirror, no discernable features among the blood and bile on its visage. Blood gradually formed a puddle of crimson at the disfigured feet, partially dried and cracking.  

Liu couldn’t move, frozen, feet planted beneath him and numb. Yet, he couldn't look away.  

Sensing his presence, it turned around, revealing its grotesque form, drooling. In its hand was Randy’s discarded knife, soaked in crimson, fatty liquid.  

It stood tall and persistent beneath the flesh of its broken body, unfazed by the corpse it wore. The mouth, the maw. As it spoke, blood and mucus projected outward, splattering the tile and mirror. 

“Et lingua ignis est universitas iniquitatis,” It began, jaw swinging uncontrollably as it spoke, “lingua constituitur in membris nostris quae maculat totum...” Trailing off as it spoke, choking on its own blood. The sound of it was diseased, grinding against his psyche, like shredding flesh and sinew with bare hands. 

Its mouth was cut open on one side, skin floppy and jagged, exposing teeth and a lolling tongue that struggled to remain in its mandibles.  

Liu pleaded, nausea rolling through his stomach, his heart stuttering in his chest fiercely. He begged for the figure to halt, to stop and release his brother. Never before had he laid eyes on something so foul.   

Yet it continued, raising the blade to its left cheek, maintaining Liu’s attention as it began sawing the sharp edge back and forth with vigor.  

Through the blood it sputtered out, gargling, “Corpus et inflammat rotam nativitatis nostrae inflammata a gehenna!”  

Its voice was shrill as it sawed repeatedly, slurred speech slowly erasing any remnants of its former self.  

Liu pressed his hands to his ears, face scrunching up, pleads drying up on his lips as the words gave way to pain. Pure, unadulterated agony. Like electricity boiling him alive. He choked on a gasp and tried for his voice. 

“Shut up!” He cried, tears mixing with snot and saliva down his face, “Leave him! Leave him and let me bury my brother! Let me put him to rest!”  

The body kept repeating the words over and over, degenerating into incompressible garble as it struggled to enunciate through the thick liquid.  The body threw its head back, laughing to the sky, and then it buckled over to vomit onto the tile floor, a vile mixture of blood and mucus.  

Liu took advantage of the moment, struggling as he forced himself off his knees. He threw himself against the figure, crashing into the wall, crumpling.   

He heard a blunt thud and they both tumbled forward. The figure, lethargic, slid down the wall, still gripping the blade in hand, swinging blindly.  

Liu wasted no time, grabbing the figure by its remaining hair and using his years of experience hauling dead weight to drag the figure down the stairs. It thumped against each step, leaving a blood trail, eyes dull and previous thrashing ceased.  

Liu dragged the monster deep into the forest, over roots and under jutting branches, where its open grave beckoned him to finish this.  

Into the hole, the body crumbled onto itself,  lifeless eyes staring into nothing.  

Liu got to work shoveling the soil into the grave, and as he did so the body released wheezy, taunting laughs. This only spurred him on, who aimed the dirt at its head, hoping to snuff it out.  

However, even fully covered, the dirt mound misshapen and hasty, the laughter still penetrated through the earth. Transforming it into a rumbling rattle deep within its chest. He shoveled and shoveled until nothing but dirt remained. 

Unmoving and destined to rot, Liu collapsed to his knees over the earth.  

He wailed, cries clawing their way out of his throat. He continued until his throat could no longer, digging his hands into the earth and gripping the soil as if he could hold his brother one more time.  

The laughter beneath died down and silence fell over the forest; no whistle of the leaves in wind, no chirping of birds, no chirping of crickets.  

Life ceased; a flame starved of oxygen, died out unnoticed. 

Days had passed before anyone noticed what had happened. Dejected and isolated, the Woods’ family were far forgotten in the local zeitgeist.  

It took Jane Goelet working up the courage to confide in her mother for the family to be confronted. With the word of Jeff’s state—incapacitated by circumstance—circulating around town, Jane mustered the ability to speak.  

She had gone to Mrs. Goelet and floundered over her words as she recounted her meeting with Jeff. Reasonably horrified and seeking answers, Jane’s mother reported the incident and sent police right to the front door.  

Unprepared for what they would come across, the two officers had knocked to no response. It was only when the rookie, who curiously peered through the window, witnessing the remnants inside did they call for backup.  

The search revealed the fate of the family.  

Mr. Woods sat in a charred and derelict recliner, body burnt beyond recognition to the point that dental work was required to confirm his identity.  

Mrs. Woods was discovered upstairs in a room that reeked with the pungent odor of death. Her body was bloated, the cause of death undetermined due to the multitude of injuries. A combination of blunt force trauma and multiple stab wounds, varying in depth and originating from multiple weapons.  

Liu was eventually discovered wandering the forest, holding one of the weapons—a shovel—tightly to his chest. The cause of the blunt force trauma was taken by officers, and Liu himself was inconsolable. Delusional, dehydrated, he was taken in, bursting into tears sporadically for indistinct reasons.  

He was sedated, transferred for medical attention and held in a private room for questioning. The only person who couldn’t be recovered was Jeff, whose body seemingly disappeared without a trace.  

Several weeks were spent searching the forest with no sign of the boy. He was presumed dead, and the investigation promptly closed.  

Liu faced court for the deaths of the Woods’ family, but due to lack of evidence he was only charged for the death of Mrs. Woods. With reason of insanity, he was sentenced to seven years, on condition of attending extensive psychological treatment and rehabilitation programs.  

Rumors carried by whispers throughout the town, unanswered questions birthed tales wild and unbelievable. Jane herself was left haunted, nights filled with dreams of burnt figures and piglets.  

Her mind would wander into the unknown months within the Woods’ home, weaving fables of unimaginable suffering.  

The few details she could handle her mother recounting did little to quell her obsession. 

Inevitably, the only person that knew Jeff’s fate was gone from the world, as if he never existed at all. Dead or alive, Jeff Woods was no longer.  

Epilogue 

Randy's first stop was the pub.  

Maybe not the brightest choice, but it was something he felt nipping at his heels. He was unsure if it was the idea of drowning his sorrows or if it was the occupant who promised to meet with him.  

Either way, he walked hastily across town, stern to ignore the burning looks from those whom he passed. The town this time of year felt desolate, snow and ice coating the ground in a relentless hold. Salt sprinkled the roads and sidewalk, glittering beneath the moon.   

Randy’s hands were shoved deep in his pockets, ears and nose pink from the cold air. The pub they agreed on was at the end of town, a hot spot for the town drunks and floozy women.  

He strolled through the door, cupping his hands over his mouth and breathing out hot air. He rubbed the cold from his fingers while looking around, until his eyes fell on brown hair.  

Troy had his back to the door, fingers gripping a short glass, ice swimming around dark liquor. He hadn’t noticed Randy walking in the door and was watching the bartender—a petite woman with pink stripes in her hair—making cocktails. 

If it were some years earlier, Randy may have tried his hands at provoking the pretty girl, but now he felt unsure.  

Before, he was untouchable, but now it felt like every move was subject to voyeurs' treatment. He was unsure if the few other inhabitants were actually stealing glances at him, or if it was a product of his newfound paranoia.  

He took seat on the open stool next to Troy, tapping the counter twice to beckon the lone woman behind it. The larger boy's attention was grabbed simultaneously, and he was looked up from his glass.  

Meeting Randy’s gaze, he nodded, “Hey-” the greeting died in his throat, eyes widening for a moment. Randy knew why and he threw him a tight smile. Diagonally, across his face, from brow to chin, was a large and ugly scar. It healed shabbily, unlike the dog bite, which had healed with minimal remnants thanks to his father. This was inflicted by design to be a visual eyesore.  

“Turns out,” Randy began, grabbing the fresh drink that was placed on the counter, “People in juvie don’t really like bullies.” he took a swig, feeling the burn down his throat that settled warmly in his stomach,welcomed in the cold air.  

It was true. When word got around about what he’d done, the others had dealt with him. In their vigilante justice, they wished for him to feel what Jeff’s newfound reality was. His time locked up was an isolating and uncomfortable experience.  

Troy nodded in understanding and held up two fingers toward the bartender. The two sat in silence for a while, a bittersweet awkwardness. Troy had managed to avoid consequence, confessing what they had done on a plea deal.  

Three drinks deep, Randy decided to break the tension, “If you wanted to just get fucked up like old times,” He chuckled, smile not meeting his eyes, “You could’ve just said so.”  

“Kieth’s dead.” The words were like a gut punch. Troy was staring intently at his empty glass. 

Randy swallowed dryly, “W-what?” He sat upright now, “I thought, I heard he was fine after...” 

“It wasn’t that.” Troy cut him off, looking at Randy now, “Someone killed him.”  

Randy shook his head. 

 Dead? That couldn’t be true, no way. 

But, undeniably, it was. Keith was dead, murdered in his sleep. Randy’s head fell into his hands, running fingers roughly through his hair. He tapped his glass, calling for a refill. 

“Do they...do they know who?” He couldn't finish the sentence, struggling to process reality.  

“No.” Troy said bluntly, downing the rest of his drink and nodding to Randy, “So watch your back.”  

The implication was overt, the scar on his face tingling as Troy left him, Walking out into the cold darkness of night.  

Drink after drink, Randy spent hours in that bar, until final drinks were called.  

“Sorry man,” The girl spoke while wiping down the counter, “gotta close up.” 

With slurred speech Randy retorted, “Wanna walk me home?” 

The girl threw him a disgusted look and pointed to the door, “Get out, Randy.”  

She spat, and he grumbled, defeated, putting his jacket on. The dark of night was suffocating, a fully sober man would struggle to navigate it, let alone inebriated as Randy was.  

For a moment, he thought he heard footsteps tailing him, but when he turned around, all he could see was an empty road.  

Paranoid anew, Randy picked up his step. He pulled out his phone and began calling, watching his surroundings. The call went straight to voicemail. 

“This is Troy, can’t answer ya’ right now. Leave a message, or don’t!” Randy shook his head and redialed, feet stumbling as he picked up the pace. Once more, it went straight to voicemail, and once more, Randy redialed.  

After the fifth turn to voicemail, he left a message, “If this is a joke, you’re still a weak cunt. Pick up! Seriously!”  

He feigned confidence, not wanting to reveal his fear into the dark, as if the façade would fool anything trailing after him.  

He was at his front door, struggling with his keys to unlock the door. He panicked when he couldn’t muster up the motor skills to undo the lock. The door opened anyway, Randy’s mom hearing the panic from inside and letting her son inside.  

Once inside, he ran to the bathroom, his mom yelling after him. Randy vomited into the toilet, a combination of alcohol and fear spurring him on.  

Images of Kieth flashing through his mind, his mom stood at the door with her arms crossed. In her nightgown, she dragged her son to bed, where he promptly passed out.  

Troy never called back or answered his phone in the morning. Despite asking around, no one could answer, or cared to answer, about his whereabouts.  

As Randy came to realise, most of the town sought to forget about those three. They had crossed some unspoken line in the cruelty, leading to complete societal excommunication.  

Wherever Troy was, that was no concern of the townsfolk.  

Randy reconciled all this to the bartender for multiple nights, and despite his previous transgressions, she let him ramble. As each day passed, he spent more time at the bar.  

One particular night, he had drowned himself to the point of immobility, unable to walk more than a couple feet to and from the bathroom. The bartender staunchly cut him off and all but threw him out the door. On the front steps he sat, occasionally leaning over to expel the contents of his stomach onto the ground.  

His head was thumping, and he clutched at it in pain. Randy’s vision was doubled, and he watched as two sets of feet came into his vision. The figure stood for a moment, silent. Randy struggled to focus.  

“C’mon Randy,” He heard a raspy, strained voice say above him, “Let's get you to bed.” 

The mystery figure hooked an arm under Randy, hoisting him to his feet. Alarm bells sounded in his mind but try as he might, he was subdued by the figure. The two walked off into the forest.  

Randy’s slurred protests failed as the two walked further away from civilization. It felt like an unbearable amount of time before they came to a halt. Randy, unable to see clearly, struggled to make sense of what was in front of him.  

Until he heard snorting.  

Eyes squinting, he stared into the dark pit below and muttered, “Pi-pigs?”  

With a rough push, Randy tumbled headfirst into the hole. His face planted into slurry and pig excrement, violating his senses, smothering him.  

He lifted his head, holding back what little was left in his stomach, and came face to face with a pig. It was chewing lazily, snorting curiously at the boy. Confused and disgusted, Randy focused on its pink snout, dizzy.  

Suddenly, it stopped chewing and spit something out into the mud.  

Randy eyed it, squinting. A tooth. 

Sobriety rushed like a cold tide through his body when someone dropped down into the hole behind him. 

He rolled over onto his back, gazing up. It hovered above him, tall and pale. Despite its disfigured, threatening face and white blood-stained hoodie casting dark shadows, the red head instantly knew who it was. Those eyes, icy and partially clouded now, were unmistakable.  

“Jeff?” Randy questioned, voice watery. 

Jeff looked at him, mouth cut into a wide smile that bared his teeth. He stepped forward and reflexively, Randy backed up, his back hitting the dirt wall of the pit. Randy whimpered as Jeff got closer, hopelessness settling in his soul. 

“Shhh,” He hushed Randy, slowly revealing the bloody knife from the pocket of his hoodie, “Just go to sleep.” 

END. 

if you're still here- thanks for reading <3

[xyfanficarchive]

returning the favour

Mouthwashing - Jimmy x reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Jimmy calls upon you to care for him after you infected him.

Content warnings: fluff, Jimmy, he’s too sick to be much of a bitch in this one.

i wrote this directly in the post editor because im still fucking sick. and sickness is just on my mind. i think he would be adorably pathetic if he were sick. anyways enjoy <3

After the click of the deadbolt unlocking, you opened the door and met with Jimmy’s face- pale and colourless save for the feverish splotches across his cheeks, all chapped lips and puffy, watery eyes, scruffy beard even scruffier than usual. A ratty, well-worn comforter wrapped around his slumped shoulders. His hand retreated underneath to clutch the loose edge closed again as he turned away from the door, went back towards his couch, the slow shuffling gait of an old man with back pain.

“Look at wh-” He started, voice deep, clogged and croaky, but the words caught in his throat swiftly and he devolved into a deluge of coughs, dry and painful sounding. By the third time he tried catching his breath only to start hacking again, you dropped your bags and went to his side, rubbing his back as he doubled over, as his whole body heaved with each attempted expulsion. Though there was nothing to expel from his lungs, you knew that well enough, having gone through the same thing the week before.

“Relax, Jim, relax. Try to breathe slow. It’s that tickle in your throat, huh? It’s awful, I know.” Your own voice was still a little raspy, still recovering from your own week of hell. He caught hold of his breath, each respiration shaky. You felt him tense underneath your hand again but he stopped, wrestling down the autonomous instinct to cough.

“Look at what you’ve done to me…” He moaned at last, soft and weak, and gave a thick sniff through his nose as he stood up, turning his red-rimmed gaze to you. A look of betrayal playing on his face.

“Oh…” You intoned in mock insult, but softened. “Okay. I take full responsibility. But I’m here now to help. Go sit down.” You waved him over to the couch and he flopped down, slumped over on his side and curled up under the blanket, knees to his chest. You shed your outerwear, hanging your jacket on the hook and lining your boots up neatly on the tray. He groaned as you went to bring the bags closer to the couch.

“I’m freezing… I can’t get warm,” he mumbled. “And I’ve never ached so bad in my fuckin’ life…”

“I’ve got you some medicine, don’t worry.” You rifled through the bag, and placed a rattling bottle of Advil and the same bottle of NyQuil he had brought you, now half empty, side by side on the coffee table. “Advil will help with the aches, the NyQuil is for everything else. Let me go get you a glass of water.”

You got up and headed to his kitchen, bringing the crinkling brown paper bag with you, the savoury smell of fried food wafting about. “Are you hungry, Jimmy?”

“No… But I know I should eat. I haven’t really had anything today.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a little plate. You should have something if you’re taking ibuprofen anyways.” After placing the bag on the counter, you opened it, staples tearing strips out as you recalled his feeble voice over the phone: “…and could you go to the fried chicken place? With the good mac and cheese… And fries, and coleslaw.”

You smiled with warm affection, how cute he could be without even meaning it. This was definitely less nutritious than his soup he had so graciously made for you, but it was calorie dense, at least. You took a glass and a plate, and a fork from his cupboards and spooned out a small portion of everything, selecting a prime piece of chicken, and filled the glass with water from the tap. Then, brought both back to the living area, setting them down in front of him.

“Thanks,” Jimmy said. He was sat upright now, shivering under his blanket. He had poured himself a dose of the cough syrup and knocked it back with expert skill. Opened the Advil and shook out two little reddish brown pills, swallowed them down with a sip of water.

You went back to your bags, pulled out a big rolled up blanket, and unfurled it, the electric cord hanging from the corner falling to the ground with a plastic thud. “I went and dug my electric blanket out of storage, just for you,” you sang with a grin.

All folded in on himself, pale and clammy, with dark bags under his eyes, he looked so small sitting there, listlessly eating from his plate. It tugged at your heart. “Aww, you look terrible,” you kissed his messy hair as you wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, taking the cord and plugging it into the wall socket next to the couch.

“Thanks, babe. You looked fresh as a spring rose when you were all snotty, hacking your lungs out,” he muttered sarcastically through a mouthful of food, while he took the control for the blanket and clicked it up to high.

You just smiled, gently scratched his scalp with your fingers as you passed by on your way back to the kitchen. “I’m gonna make myself a plate. Hang in there, Jim.” He just hummed. You heard him flicking through channels on the TV behind you as you walked away. Coughed a little, though not as intense as he had when you came in.

When you came back, there was some documentary playing low, and Jimmy was laid down, curled and trembling under the heated blanket, eyes shut, shuddering breaths passing his lips. His plate was abandoned, half eaten on the coffee table, though he had drank the water down. The only free space was at the end of the couch by his feet, so that’s where you sat. Jimmy stretched his leg out, just enough to make contact with the sole of his foot to your thigh. You pulled the edge of the blanket over to cover him and keep his body heat in. Then you started eating, half-watching the documentary that you couldn’t really hear, time punctuated by the occasional cough or groan coming from him at the other end of the couch.

When you were finished, you got up, and Jimmy’s legs retreated back further under the blanket with a low whine. You took both plates and his glass and went to the kitchen, scraping the leftovers into the trash before leaving the plates in the sink. You refilled his glass and returned to the living area.

“…I’m really cold… and it hurts so bad…” Jimmy whimpered, eyes still closed, and you pouted, feeling so sorry for him as you looked down. You set the glass down, and pressed your palm to his forehead.

“Hopefully the meds kick in soon. You’re burning up.”

“Yeah I bet,” he murmured as your palm went from assessing his temperature to caressing his face. You moved to sit back down where you were before, but he stopped you. “Wait- c’mere,” he looked up at you with glassy, half-lidded eyes. “I want- I need your body warmth…” He pleaded. He sounded so sweet when he pleaded with you.

“You want me to cuddle with you?” You asked in clarification.

“…Yeah…”

“Alright, Jim. Let me in then,” you agreed. It wasn’t a hard choice. “Sheesh, and the way you fought against cuddling me…” You teased in false hurt.

“I hadn’t been sick with what you had yet. But you’ve already been sick with what I got now, so it doesn’t matter,” he lifted the blanket with his one arm and hissed through his teeth, shuddering with the other arm pressed close to his chest while you crawled underneath. You pressed your body face to face with his. He dropped the blanket over you and drew that arm in close to him, crossing them between your bodies for as much warmth as he could. You moved your own arm, prompting him to lift his head so you could slip it underneath and cradle him in your arms. You rubbed soothing circles into his back and he sighed, still trembling slightly in your embrace.

You bent your neck down to kiss him on the forehead, giving little scratches on his scalp through his hair. “You’re gonna get all sweaty and then I’ll get sweaty,” you complained, light and unserious.

“Worth it.”

“How do you know?”

“Cause I’m always worth it, aren’t I, darlin’?” He mumbled, voice heavy with exhaustion.

You sighed. “Can’t argue with that.” Certainly it was worth it, at least to be the one holding him in your arms instead of the other way around. Jimmy didn’t like to feel weak, or small like that. It was a precious, rare moment for him to let himself be held, cradled and comforted so softly while he curled up and pressed himself close to your warmth. “You are worth it, Jimmy.” You kissed his forehead again, and he only hummed in response.

It was nice. He rubbed his leg against yours, up and down, and gradually his shivering stopped, all while you caressed his back and his hair. His body relaxed against yours, his breathing gradually slowing until you could tell he was asleep.

Your heart softened, an aching outpouring of love flooding through your chest. “I love you, Jim,” you whispered, and closed your eyes. Not much else to do here but sleep along with him, and wait for him to wake up, damp and scrambling to cool down in the open air. But you were perfectly content to lay with him until that moment came.

[queer-n-here]

C..can i be Anon 🍷? Also i have a lil request, chuuya overstim + edging if u can 🙏🙏

Ofc bro! Welcome to my annon fam! (I did add you to the annon fam thingy on my pinned post earlier hehe) But look:

Same same. So here's the fic.

Also... Who wants a Loki x reader fanfic? Cuz I was watching Thor: Ragnarok yesterday and I have a scenario in my head that I can't get out. Lemme know if y'all want it!

(Read the Loki fic here)

Contents: Edging and overstimming Chuuya

Warnings: Smut, top male reader, biting, mentions of nipple play, edging, dacryphillia, overstimulation, rough sex with gentle after care.

Fuck, Chuuya couldn't take it anymore.

You'd been at it for hours, for fuck's sake. You kept fucking him, over and over and over again, and not removing your hand from the base of his cock, not letting him come.

And even now, holding the back of knees and pushing his legs further apart, you kept going.

Chuuya, his face stained with tears and throat already hoarse, couldn't even think anymore. He just pushed his face into the crook of your neck, sobbing and begging senselessly for the release that you were holding away from him.

"Please, please, please, please, [Name], please..." It became his mantra, begging you so pathetically, even though he could barely form words with that brain of his turned to mush.

"You wanna cum, Chuuya?" You said, teeth gritted against the feeling of him clenching around you so hard it was getting hard to thrust in and out. "You wanna cum so bad?"

He nodded furiously, sweat-soaked hair sticking to his forehead, eyes puffy and red from all that crying. His entire body was covered in hickeys that you'd left him, and his nipples were still swollen and erect.

"Hmm... Should I let you?" You muttered, slamming your hips into his with such brute force that his head hit the headboard.

Chuuya cried out, fingers gripping your shoulders so hard that his nails had long sunk into your skin.

"Go on then," You took pity, finally, finally, and let go of his dick, placing your hands on either side of his head instead to support your weight.

He came from the third thrust, his body jerking and spasming under you as ropes of come shot out of his dick, painting both your abdomens white. He fell back against the bed, arms falling limply on either side as he huffed and panted, bruised chest heaving.

But fuck, you weren't done with him yet.

And by the time Chuuya realised that, he was already crying again from the overstimulation, feeling your dick continue to rearrange his insides, hitting all the spots that were even more sensitive and sore now. He whined, thighs trembling as you wrapped them around your waist before thrusting in again.

A couple rounds of sex later, everything beneath Chuuya's waist was so numb he couldn't hold himself up on his legs for the life of him. You'd ripped orgasm after orgasm from him, up untill he was shooting blanks. You didn't look like you were stopping anytime soon, but Chuuya felt like he would pass out if this went on anymore.

"[Name]," He said, voice hoarse from all the abuse. "[Name], I can't... I can't go on anymore..."

It was too much.

You could tell from his blown out pupils and the way his soft dick faced down that he was right for once. He genuinely couldn't take anymore. So you pulled out, jerking yourself off till you came over Chuuya's already cum-stained thighs, and then lay down beside him.

He was a mess. You took him to the bathroom to clean up, and he fell asleep in your arms inside the bathtub, letting you wash the bodily fluids off of him.

You knew you'd been tougher than usual on him today, so you didn't say anything, cleaning him up gently and pressing chaste kisses into his temple even though he was asleep. After drying him off, you took him to your room and tucked him in in the clean sheets.

"I'll go clean up your room, too, okay baby?" You pressed another soft kiss against Chuuya's forehead, watching him sleep peacefully.

[heartfullofleeches]

Fletchers reaction to foxboy willingly kissing him for the first time

Yan Farmer Rabbit + Fox Hybrid Reader

[Reader has no mentioned gender but they are referred to as wife]

-

"Damn it!"

The knife clatters to the kitchen floor with a dull thud. Chest heaving with each pain breath, you fall to your knees - shirt clutched painfully tight in your claws as wetness drips down your cheeks.

Three weeks... Three weeks you've lived with the farmer and he hasn't asked you to lift a finger. This is it.... isn't it? It's finally happening. You were a such an idiot to think it wouldn't. He's testing you... A trial to see how useful you'll be to him in the long run.

"Hey, Sweetness. Something came up down at the general store. Shouldn't be gone long, but- think you can cut up the potatoes for dinner while I'm out? It's not hard. I'll show you how to do it."

He made it look so easy. Each slice against the cutting board so neat, precise - perfect. Just like him. What does he want from you? Does he actually think you'll make for a good partner? You can't even cut up vegetables to save your own tail- Just what the hell does he want from you?!

"Hun? That you?"

Shit. "Fuck, fuck, fuck-"

You wipe at your eyes with the backs of your palms, scrambling to pick yourself off the floor before he sees you. He can't see you like this- The thunder of his footsteps fills you with a kind of terror you haven't felt since you got locked in that kitchen coop.

"Y/n?"

Your back hits the cupboard wall. Fletcher's large, imposing figure hovers at the door frame. Two steps into the kitchen is all it takes for him to march up to the table. To see your mistakes. Too thick. Too thin. Sliced indiead of cubed like he asked. The farmer takes a breath. He kneels down in front of you, hand perched on the tile a hairline away from your shivering legs.

"Hon-"

"Don't-" You bite. "Just don't..... I missed up. I always do. Why do you even want me here? I can't do anything right... I'm a terrible wife."

"Hey!-" Fletcher grips your shoulder, tugging you against his chest. "Don't you ever, ever talk about yourself like that. You're fine. It's okay. All you need is a little practice. Just calm down."

Liar- He's a fucking liar. "What if I don't get better with practice?! What if all I ever am to you is dead weight?"

Fletcher kisses the top of your head, voice small - crushed by the sounds of your sobs against his chest. "That's fine with me too, Sweetheart.... That's fine with me too. I didn't bring you here because I wanted a maid. I just wanted you. That's all I have ever wanted since I laid eyes on you. I love you- Always have, always will."

His hold on you lessens as your whines and sniffles crawl to a still. Your puffy eyes cross his as you lift your head from his chest. He tries to smile - delicately raising his enormous paw to the fuzzy flesh of your cheek. He rests his nose against yours - just like he always did when he was trying to comfort you or feel a connection, lips inches from yours.

"Whether you can dice up a thousand potatoes or not at all. Even if you make a mess of everything you touch. I'll always be here for you no matter what. I'll always love you - no matter what."

Your arms creep up to his neck, the space between you null as your lips ghost over his. Fletcher stiffens, unsure - fearful of scaring you off now if he takes the dive for you. And so you take it-

The kiss is hesitant. Gentle as the hand stroking at your back, washing away any doubts left of his conviction towards you. Tear drops fall at your skin, but you have none more to cry. Is he?... You pull away as the droplets drip from Fletcher's chin into his already stained tee.

"My bad." The farmer barks out a dry chuckle, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stop the flow. "Now's not the time to get emotional, but I just- I'm so glad to have you here. With me."

"I know... I'm glad to be here too now, but um... Fetch?"

"Yeah?"

Your ears lay flat against your skull as your stomach whines in hunger. "Can we... finish up with dinner now?"

The laugh Fletcher bellows is far less restrained. "Sure. What kind of man would I be if I let my wife starve? I'll tell you some more tricks will we're at it. You'll be a head chef in no time, sweetheart.... And even if you aren't - I'll cherish you all the same."

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

PUT A WIFE BACK IN HER PLACE

KINKTOBER DAY 25 - SPANKING WITH MARTIN

Pairing.| Martin x fem!reader

Summary.| When Martin’s attempt to win your heart back with a nostalgic trip on a secluded Scottish island fails, he has one last resort to remind you who’s wife you are.

Warnings.| Dubcon, dry humping, spanking, arguing, infidelity, implied breeding.

Word count.| 1.4k

Notes.| This ain't that good but yolo because Martin is hot.

In Martin’s defense, you couldn’t say that he didn’t put in his all to revive your marriage, it’s been on the rocks for months now, every opportunity for intimacy always resulted in bickering at the best outcome. The arguments were daggering to the heart, zero remorse on either of your ends at times. But Martin was devoted to you, you were his world, he needed you more than oxygen. 

His marvelous plan on resparking your attraction to one another seemed to be working like a blender unplugged from the power outlet. This will mark your third time vacating on the secluded Scottish island. You were quiet the whole boat ride, but it went unphased by Doug, he merely chatted on with Martin. Your husband would glance over at you every now and then, but you were in a different world. 

With every day passing, Martin lost a handful of hope. Nothing was working like it used to. The way you’d smile at him when he’d come back after fishing had vanished. The gratitude for the small things he did for you was no more. Your marriage was flatlining. The small talk felt unbearable, turned shoulders made him want to rip his hair out. He only wanted to look at you, hold you, feel you. When you hid yourself in the bathtub, Martin felt his stomach turn in a mixture of shame and pleasure. How could you shy away from your husband? But then when was the last time he had even seen you naked. 

He ran across the coastal shore, his expression was stern as he sprinted as fast as he could. His ears went blocked, heart pounded uncontrollably in his chest as the aches in his muscles grew. When he reached the top of the cliff, his hands formed into balls as he smacked the air. 

“Fuck!” Martin roared, a vein popped out in his forehead. 

Martin heaved out, his hands rested above his knees as he tried to catch his breath. After inhaling his asthma pump, his hands searched into his pocket for his phone. His fingers jabbed at the screen, then he scrolled to keep his motivation alive. He flicked through the countless screenshots of evidence, his grip tightened after each swipe. 

I want to be with you. 

I think of you every night. 

You’re in my dreams, I picture the day when we’re together. 

Now, Martin wasn’t sure of the details of your affair, only the little love messages George would send you, you’d always respond with something similar back, but your level of passion was lower, he was sure of it. 

I love you. 

He stared at that message for the longest, because it was sent by you the night before you two left. Why didn’t you love Martin anymore, your husband, the man you declared your vows to, the man you devoted your life for. In sickness and in health, you were his. 

Martin decided to walk back to the cottage, for the chaos would unfold that night. Every few steps, Marin would roughly rub his eyes. The smell of the seaside did little to ease his stresses, the wind was picking up, the scent of rain grew.

When he entered the cottage, you took a moment to even acknowledge him, your attention drawn to the book you were reading. You gave him a small smile, his jaw locked, he turned his heel and headed to the kitchen. Martin did try hard to remain calm, he poured himself a large glass of red wine, then another for you. As he handed the glass to you, he sucked on his lower lip. 

You thanked him, oblivious to his boiling anger. Impulsively, Martin took a large swig of the nectar and clinked it onto the table. His eyes burnt into you, but you ignored him completely, you were driving him mad. 

“So, does he fuck you good?” Martin abruptly asked. 

You choked on your wine, your eyes darted up at him as you analyzed him, surely he couldn’t know? It was as if you were a deer caught in headlights, Martin could swear he could hear your heartbeat race. You were waiting for the punchline, but eventually realized it wasn’t coming. 

“What are you going on about?” you replied, trying to remain cool as if you weren’t a kettle boiling on the hot stove. 

“Does George fuck you good?” Martin clarified, huffing out in anger, his name tasted like venom on his tongue. 

“Martin” you warned. 

“I should have figured it out sooner, I always knew he had the hots for you, but I didn’t realize you were such a little whore” Martin insulted. 

George worked with you, and yes, he did always have the hots for you. Despite your constant rejection, he kept on making sly advances on you. Until one day, when you were fed with your sickening feuds with Martin, that you just gave in to George’s affection. 

In a childish manner, you abruptly stood up and turned your direction to the hallway. Martin followed you just as quickly and you flinched, he looked unhinged. 

“Step back Martin!” you demanded as you hurried to the hallway. 

“Where are you going to go! It’s just you and I honey, a husband and his wife” Martin teased harshly as he followed after you. 

When you didn’t stop, he yanked you back by the shoulder and shoved you against the wall. You cried out as he pressed his body up against yours, his face drew close to yours. 

“You think I’m not manly enough for you? Aye!” Martin shouted by your ear, you winced at his behavior. 

“No Martin!” you cried. 

Martin’s eyes squinted together as he felt the tears forming. His hand smacked on the wall besides your head in anger, you shrieked out. 

“Why don’t you fucking love me anymore” Martin snarled, his face twitched. 

There was no response from you. His hands gripped onto your curves and you gasped out as you felt his erection grow against you. His stubble brushed over your heating cheek, you shuddered out. Quickly, he flipped your front onto the wall, you gasped out and swallowed down the ball of spit in your throat.

“You’re my fucking wife, you’ll stay with me” Martin determined with a nod. 

“O-okay, just calm down” you shuddered. “Martin!” you yelped out as he yanked your comfy pants down to your thighs. 

“Shut it, just giving you what you deserve” Martin responded harshly and he forcefully pressed your face on the wall. 

You choked on your sob as he smacked your rear harshly. His hand pressed against your shoulder blade, you were confined against the plastered wall as he spanked your cheeks. Never has your husband been so rough with you, he was always gentle, kind and thoughtful. Martin would mutter curse words under his breath as he felt his cock twitch in his athlete shorts. The sounds of his slaps echoed throughout the walls, you bit back your moans, your eyes almost rolling back as you unknowingly squeezed your thighs together to create friction. 

“I love you” Martin confessed, his lips pressed to your ear as he continued to bring his palm to your flaming skin. 

“I know you do, Martin” you panted out, your breathing rugged, hips shifting. 

“I’d do anything for you” Martin grunted as he hit you with full force.

“I know you would!” you whined. 

His blue eyes could see how your body was reacting, how horny you were becoming. Martin heaved out, his body molded against yours as he rubbed his erection over your stinging cheeks. Your knees felt weak, his body weight was holding you up. Desperately, his humps humped against your ass, Martin could hardly control his desires. 

“You want a baby?” Martin whispered, almost romantically. 

“W-what?” you whimpered out. 

“Do you want a baby, my darling? I’ll put one in you right now if it’d fix everything” Martin explained, his hands rubbing your hips. 

You stammered out as you tried to think logically. A baby was all that you wanted, for so long. But Martin just always put his job first and shooed away the possibilities of creating a family together. You hated him for it. But now he wants to change?

“Come on, how many arguments did we have over it? How badly does it make you despise me?” Martin continued on, his head rubbed against yours. 

You mumbled out, you tried to think of George, of your plans. But he seemed to be disappearing from your mind. Martin’s hands caressed over your stomach, you moaned out gently and turned around to your husband, your lips neared his.

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤

A/N: When I say @seolarsonlyloveisyou asked for this a while ago I mean OVER TWO MONTHS AGO... I love you bbg sorry this took so long.. but thanks for getting this song stuck in my head There was many versions of this and so i settled for a drabble... >.> I might make a fic?? idk

Pairing: idol!Jisung x fem!reader Genre: PURE SMUT Warnings: not proofread, rulebreaking, language barrier, dry humping, oral fem rec, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), kinda >.> ending

Jisung remembered how he'd smiled as he signed your album, how you'd given him the shyest smile as he greeted you.

You blinked a bit in confusion, before waving shyly.

Now he knew he really shouldn't have felt the way he did, you were a precious fan. With that shy pretty smile. Yeah... he really did not care about consequences.

Running off without telling the members was one thing, but ignoring Chan's calls was another. He committed both atrocities. Just for you. Because you were so pretty and nice even if it finally occurred to him you couldn't understand a word he was saying. So how he ended up under you in the chair of a hotel room. He really couldn't answer.

"Just like that." He muttered, hands at your hips guiding you to grind against his clothed cock slowly.

You said something he couldn't understand and whimpered.

His hands traced up your sides to your breasts and squeeze them gently, groaning as you arched chasing the feeling of his hands on you.

"Want me to fill you pretty girl...?" He muttered, leaning forward and kissing you. "Make you mine," He breathed against your lips as he rutted his hips up into you. The friction of his pants against your wet panties drew a cry from your lips.

He gripped your thighs and lifted you up, you gasped and wrapped your arms around him, running your fingers through his wavy hair. He kissed you again moaning against your lips as he carried you to the bed before dumping you on the mattress and pulling his shirt over his head. He tossed it haphazardly before getting on his knees and grabbing your legs, he dragged your pants and panties off, throwing them with just as much care as his shirt before he kissed your inner thighs.

You moaned softly and reached down to touch his head, he looked up at you, eyes half lidded and pupils blown with lust. You blushed deeply and he reached up and took your hand his, squeezing gently before his lips latched around your clit.

Your head fell back as you moaned, Jisung released your hand in favor of gripping your hips to keep you from moving. He groaned into your heat as you tugged on his hair. As you writhed under his ministrations, Jisung knew he was so screwed, he wouldn't anyone other than you, he needed you.

"Jagiya" he muttered, leaning against your thigh to stare up at you. he took in your disheveled look, your flushed face, the way your chest rose and fell with each heaving breath. He smiled at you and your heart fluttered slightly.

He climbed up the bed to look don into your eyes. "Can I take this off?" He muttered, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

You nodded and he sat you up and removed the shirt before reaching back and removing your bra.

He stared at you for a moment before mumbling, "Beautiful.." He leaned down and latched his lips around your nipple, pinching your other nipple before alternating.

You moaned as he started grinding his crotch against your thigh.

"Want you so bad..." He moaned against your boob. "Can I fuck you?" He pleaded.

You whimpered and bucked your hips up.

He stared at you for a moment before he got off you and unbuckled his belt, removing his pants and boxers. You stared at him for a moment.

"Can't help but admire.." He smirked and you felt your face going hot. He got back on the bed caging you in.

You ran your hands down his chest and abs. Your eyes met as he rubbed his tip against your folds, he slapped it against your clit before pulling back to sink into your tight heat.

You gasped and gripped his muscular arms as he split your walls inch after inch of his cock going in deeper and deeper.

He held himself over you, hissing softly before continuing. He let out a groan as he settled finally, his balls resting against your ass. He kissed you gently and pulled out slowly, gripping your legs to pull you into his thrusts.

You moaned softly as he started off slowly, gasping and hissing at how tight you were before he leaned down muttering, "I can't help it... It feels so good baby."

Then he knocked the air out of your lungs, slamming into you hard, over and over, bullying his dick into your cunt. You wrapped your arms around him as he bucked into you over over. Your nails digging into his shoulders and back as h fucked you into the mattress, sucking marks onto you neck and shoulder. He pulled so man cries from your throat you almost couldn't recognize your own voice as your moans grew in volume and pitch.

"Sh-shit!" He growled against you neck. "I'm going to cum.." Jisung processed you probably didn't understand and tried to pull out but he gasped as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

You looked up into his eyes and hi mind went blank. "Fuck.." he reached between your bodies and rubbed furiously at your clit.

You let out a broken cry and came hard around him, dragging Jisung over the edge with you. You stared up at him with mesmerized eyes as his muscles strained and he came hard fucking his thick seed deeper into you until you were both gasping from overstimulation.

He rolled off you as he fell, catching his breath and going to the bathroom. He came back a moment later and cleaned you before getting back into bed and hugged you to his chest.

Once he made sure you were asleep, he turned on his phone and stared at the missed calls from Chan and the others. He went to the bathroom and called Chan back.

"Where are y-" Chan started.

Jisung cut him off. "How much doe it cost to get a tutor for (language) to korean?"

"Why are you asking?" Chan asked.

© 2024 xxkissesforchanniexx. DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 If your name is in blue I can't tag you very sorry

@asahisimpnation, @seolarsonlyloveisyou @leeknowsnot @oddracha @palindrome969

@armystay89 @bubblespop @bubblerizz @igetcarriedawaywithyou @seungminindabuilding

@ot8 @Rylea08

[saturnsorbits]

Prying Eyes

Warnings: Voyeurism, Masturbation, Throat Fucking, Cumming in Pants. Word Count: 2k.

-> This is shit, but it’s all I’ve got rn. Idk what’s wrong with me I’ve just kind of lost my edge? Tried something with a new character. So, this is that. I’ll come back with a banner etc when I get around to making it…

The first time was an accident.

How was he supposed to know? He’d thought you needed help. The noise you were making was reverberating off of the walls, that high pitched, whiny squeal - of course, he’d raced to your aid.

Only you hadn’t needed help.

Not his help at least.

Thinking back on it now, he’s glad he didn’t slam the door open and interrupt. If he had, he wouldn’t have seen what he did. He wouldn’t have seen you.

Skidding to a stop at the door, chest heaving, he’d peaked through and angled his body for the best view of the room.

He'd seen you instantly. Your face glowing as you crouched on your knees, giving him a perfect shot of your side profile. Anxious to see more, he'd shifted. Moving just enough to watch as you'd reached out, your hands gripping at the baggy pants of the man in front of you.

He should have known then.

He should have left, but he didn't...

From there he’d bore witness.

Pushing closer, you'd stretched your neck and dropped your jaw as pouty pink lips had wrapped around the pale head of the man's cock. The tip of your tongue slid from behind your teeth, cradling the underside of his cock with a gentle, but practised ease... Then, then had come the noise. Sliding down on his cock, you'd hollowed out your cheeks and sucked, hard. The sound of your eagerness landed heavily in the air, filling the room and bleeding through the door.

Sakura swallowed. Shifting from foot to foot, he'd pressed his thighs together. Shame and arousal sunk in his stomach, an acidic battle between the two rooting him to the spot. His brain screamed at him to leave, but no matter how loud his conscious demanded, the warmth spreading through his hips kept him still. A notable bulge filled his jeans. His face flaming, even as he had tried to use his jumper to cover the shame.

He should go.

He definitely should stop looking.

So why can’t he look away?

Why doesn’t he want to?

When he looks back through the door, you're still on your knees. Your hands are obediently clenched, your fists resting atop each thigh as you'd let your eyes flutter shut and relaxed your throat. There's a hand around the back of your head now, cradling your skull and preventing your retreat. The other soothed your cheek, his fingers hooking under your jaw, thumb stroking at your skin. With each thrust his cock slipped deeper earning a gag, but if you were in any discomfort you certainly didn't show it. Instead you'd moaned, broken and openly around him – a show of just how much you enjoyed being used.

The man increased his pace, using you as his own personal toy while you whined for me. The sordid squelch of spit filled the air as droplets of it dripped down your chin and pooled between your thighs.

He didn't know how it happened, he just knew that it did. One moment he was absorbed, caught in a trance as he watched the scene play out in front of him – his very own show and then, his entire body was aflame. It started in his chest, a dry heave of emotion that sunk quickly and was absorbed by his pelvis.

He was a lost cause from there.

Inside of his jeans his cock jerked, pumping out lash after lash of cum directly into his boxers. He'd shivered through the pleasure, eyes screwed shut as his body stuttered – unable to stop as his entire body unraveled for you.

The echoes of his orgasm had barely subsided when he'd fled, his embarrassment refusing to let him glance behind as a new cacophony of sound had started up behind him.

Since then, he's antagonised himself stupid over it.

At night he replays the scene, your face, lips dripping with spit and pre-cum, how you'd swallowed him down so easily... How you'd enjoyed it. More than once he's cum to the thought, his arm thrown across his eyes, hand stuffed down his pants.

It's as if that moment had unlocked something in him, something dark and perverted... Something he can't satiate.

Which is probably why there was a second time.

The second time was anything, but an accident.

This time, when he'd heard your staccato moans, he'd known exactly what he was doing.

Staying as quiet as possible, he'd crept towards the room and peered in. He'd expected you on your knees again, the sound of your throat being filled will cock to reverberating through his ear drums. Maybe he'd even touch himself this time...

Except he never really gets to that.

Sakura's knuckles are white around the door frame where he's gripped it. His fingers burn with the hold, but it's all he can do to hold it together.

What he'd found was more than he had bargained for.

Laying a top the desk you look like a vision. Your knees face him, closed, your feet propped up on the wooden table top as you lean back. A soft trickle of pleasure is drawn from your lips, each moan more alluring than the last as it drips into Sakura's ears like an IV.

He swallows, licks his lips and dares to dream of your taste.

That's when your legs drop open.

Now, Sakura can see everything. You're naked, completely. The soft mounds of your breasts visible from his height as he tries not to trip over himself and into the room. His gaze eats away at you hungrily, devouring every inch of your skin as he commits you to memory.

Your skin shines in the light. The peaks of your nipples evident in-between your fingers as you play with them, encouraging another stifled moan from your chest. Each touch has your body prickling, desperate for more as your unoccupied hand sinks lower and lower down your body. Skating over the pouch of your fat at your lower abdomen, you let your fingers dip into the mess of your cunt.

Already you're wet, the idea of your little game creating a swell of excitement that had lodged itself in your chest a week ago. Spreading your fingers, you expose yourself and imagine the hitch in his breath. You wonder if yours is the first cunt he's seen.

It had been a surprise all those weeks ago when you'd caught him peeping. He hadn't exactly been subtle. If the thundering footsteps hadn't been a dead give away, the hushed moaning and strangled pants had made him obvious.

Still, you hadn't minded. Quite the opposite actually.

You moan and arc your back, teasing yourself, a soft stroke of your clit with the pads of your fingers. Your arousal is evident, dripping down your folds and onto the table below you. It makes taking two fingers easy. Hooking them inside of yourself, you writhe as your fingertips find the sponginess of your G-spot.

Sakura thinks he's gone insane. His head spins, his heart beating so hard inside his chest he thinks he might faint – something his shaking knees seem to agree with. It's impossible not to look, not to watch with wide-eyes as you pleasure yourself in front of him. Your cunt pulses, sucking your fingers in; each movement causing a sound more sinful than the last.

He clenches his jaw. Not for the first time he wonders what it would be like to touch you, to slip his own fingers in beside your own and feel your body stretch and clench. Glancing down, he takes a moment to observe his own hands. His fingers are thicker than yours, he thinks. Would you be able to take two? Three? Would you enjoy it – how he could stretch you out better than your own?

Canting his hips forward, he searches for relief and finds it in the dull press of the door frame. He's hard, painfully so – although, shame has yet to settle itself at the top of his spine. The pressure of his movement almost makes his eyes roll back, the sensation so present after nothing, but the confining hold of his jeans. He rolls his hips, an experiment in stamina, and realizes very quickly that it's not a race he’ll win. Already, his cock throbs - balls pulling up tight to his body as his knees turn to jelly beneath him.

Rocking harder against the wood, he imagines what it would be like to be in the room with you. If it was his fingers inside of you. His tongue. His cock. The image brings with it a whole host of new sensations as he lets his imagination run away with him. Your moans help, urge him closer and closer to the edge.

Using a palm, he covers his mouth as he tries in vain to prevent the trickle of moans that hiccup from his lips. He's unsuccessful. The noise builds in his chest, promising to get him caught. He can't have that. Can't ruin the moment.

Clenching his fist, he jams it into his mouth and bites. His teeth sink into the flesh of his knuckles, denting skin and brushing bone as he struggles, once more, to lower his volume.

It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time for him to ruin a second set of underwear. Static bursts across the insides of his eyelids, blinding him to everything that isn't pleasure and the sound of your voice. His body convulses. Reaching between his thighs, he takes hold of himself and squeezes – prolonging his high for as long as possible as he manages to open his eyes.

You're backs arched more now, pushing you up onto your tip-toes as you continue to rub harsh circles in your clit. Sakura watches your movements like a hawk, memorizing them. He massages his cock to your pace, matching you in any way he can as he watches you come undone on your own fingers.

By the time you've finished, collapsed back on the table – your legs hanging limp over the edge, he's breathless. Cum sticks to his thighs, gluing his clothes to his skin. He's pretty sure there's a river of it running down his leg too. It slicks over his ankle and pools on the floor, blatant evidence of his perversion. Panic swells in his throat. He's half-way through lifting his foot to slip off his sock to use as a make-shift rag when a hand comes down on his shoulder.

Sakura jumps.

'It's only me.' Kiryu tilts his head and beams. His hair is a mess, held back by a thick headband and sticking up in any way it can. His shirt unbuttoned almost to his navel.

‘I -‘ Sakura’s face flames, a tumble of words tripping over themselves as they jam behind his teeth and get caught in the gaps. He stamps, shifting his foot to cover his shame puddled on the floor. It's his own fault. He should have known. How many times has he seen you and Kiryu walking down the corridors hand in hand, or sitting across from each other in Pothos sharing a meal.

Of course it had been Kiryu the first time.

Of course he would be here now.

Not for the first time, Sakura curses his own impulsivity.

He braces for impact, for Kiryu's fist to connect with his nose – to be called out and screamed at, but whatever he was expecting... It doesn't come.

Cupping his cheek, Kiryu brushes his thumb over the bone and smiles. He's warmed to Sakura, that much is true, but you've wanted a piece of him since the first time he caught you and whatever his princess wants, he's happy to provide. Slipping closer, he licks his teeth and gestures to you, tired and spent on the table inside. ‘What if I told you, you didn’t just have to watch…’

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